Glasshouse
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "Maybe this place is for crazy people. And if it isn't, it turns you crazy instead." Welcome to the 66th Hunger Games!
1. Other Side Part One

**Other Side; Part One.**_  
_

_I really can't explain what I feel inside, if you knew what I was, you'd run and hide._

* * *

**Glasshouse - 66th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Caspa Clitteral.**

* * *

The hologram gives off a faint, blue tint to the room, illuminating the walls and chairs. Dozens of Gamemakers, all around me, waiting my command for when the day happens. It will all be perfect. I will make sure that it comes out perfect. Otherwise... Off with my head, I guess.

"Caspa, the President has arrived."

I turn to the man, nodding.

The big moment has arrived.

President Snow walks in, blue tint highlighting his icy hair into a watery blue. But his face doesn't change. Hard, stone, cold and emotionless. I can instantly tell the different in the air. It's changed already.

"What do _you_ have for me this year, Caspa? I expect it to be better than the year before. And as we know, young Finnick Odair winning last year was an accomplishment in itself," President Snow glares. "Somehow, you _must_ top it."

I nod, swallowing the thick lump in my throat. "I shall try my best."

I see the ghost of a smirk on his face. My best. That would never help anyone, I guess. My best _has_ to be the best ever. As he said, the last few years have been rather exciting and astounding. Young Finnick winning. The Arvoy siblings, Cashmere and Gloss winning one after the other, as well as little Enobaria Nasica proving to be a true fighter. How could _I_possibly top that?

"With this," I gesture my hand to the hologram. "This is the arena for the 66th Hunger Games."

He inspects it closely with beady eyes. "Explain it to me then."

"Well, we have decided this year to push boundaries. As you mentioned, the last five years have proven to be amazing. And considering this is my first year, I wanted to try something to set my name in stone. It's not a wilderness arena, but it's also not a Gamemakers' paradise."

"What would you call it then?" President Snow raises his thick eyebrows.

"Urban, concrete jungle," I smile. "It'll be more about the rough survival."

"Carry on."

"The Cornucopia will start here, on a higher level. From there, our tributes will go into the arena if they survive. A glass roof with sunlight pouring in, making by day extremely and uncomfortably hot, night freezing cold and icy," I pause for a moment. "_As_ well as a nice twist. The arena is a mall, something they had many years ago. A mall. A place full of shops, a massive sheet of glass leaving everything inside on display. And in each of our shops will be items. Weapons, blankets, water bottles, food, survival aids... Even medicine. _Everything_contained in a shop."

I hope he understands. A mall. Shops, each with their own items. Putting items in a contained area. That's basically starting bloodbath after bloodbath. His mouth twitches into a tiny smile.

"Is that _everything_?"

I nod. "That will be most of it. Elevators and escalators will be available, as well as concrete stairs, considering that there is more than one level. The area is large enough for them to escape, but still enclosed so that they will find each other eventually. They'll have to use their heads to survive, rather than brute strength. It will bring forth a Victor that understands both strength in body and mind."

He takes a moment to inspect the hologram once more. I've left out the little tricks, but naturally, he needs to be surprised. It's more about entertaining _him_, rather than entertaining the audience.

"Very good," President Snow finally smiles. "Make sure it works Caspa. Your head will be the price."

I gulp as he leaves the room. Yes, my head. I'll just have to make sure this will be the best yet. And with my mall, it will be.

* * *

**Other Side by Bruno Mars.**

* * *

**So here it is. _Glasshouse_ will be like your stereotypical, American mall with added features and more of an abandoned look to it. The name is the fact that glass is a major effect within the actual arena, though I'm holding back details and everything, like I did for _Nowhere To Hide_.**

**The blog is ****_glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_**


	2. Other Side Part Two

**Other Side; Part Two.**_  
_

_I really can't explain what I feel inside, if you knew what I was, you'd run and hide._

* * *

**Glasshouse - 66th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Caspa Clitteral.**

* * *

Each time a decision is made, I doubt the content of it all. I worry and worry over every little thing or decision I have to make. With a man like President Snow watching you over your shoulder like an angry, vicious bird, you can't help but feel slightly panicked.

"We've addressed all the kinks now," a Gamemaker says loudly. "Everything should run smoothly."

"Make sure that it does."

My head will be on the line, not theirs. They don't have to worry about dying or being decapitated, it's me, it'll be all my fault if one of them messes up and fails pathetically. I don't want to die; not when I have so much to live for.

I cross the room, asking something to light up the projection once more. The arena is shaped like a cylinder, with many layers of floors. Six, to be exact, including what has been dubbed as the "plaza". Each shop will hold a bounty of weapons and items, and soon or later, it'll bring out their natural, predatory instincts. Survival and nature might make someone go insane - but trapped in a place with everything handed to you but your safety can do exactly the same to a young child.

"Bring up the wall."

A young Gamemaker does so. It stands proud and tall, shining.

"The Mutts."

The next hologram pops up.

"Can you tweak this part here for me?" I ask, pointing at a certain area. The Gamemaker does so. "Yes, that's perfect. And now the preparation for the feast?"

The table sits neatly on the screen, waiting in a chamber loaded just underneath the Cornucopia. When we hit five tributes, it'll rise, bringing forth the end of a spectacular Games. Everything is just so perfect.

"Are you satisfied with it, Caspa?"

Those doubts creep up once again, but I quash the flames. "Most certainly."

* * *

******Hello everyone, and welcome to the next story of mine. All the tributes presented were sent and created through PM only. Want to know more about them? Then look underneath for the basic stuff, and then, the blog is detailed at the bottom. Have fun!**

* * *

**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Garnet Stone, 18.

Female: Astor Sheen, 17.

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Theo Cassius, 18.

Female: Delaney Robb, 18.

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Gage Anton, 16.

Female: Addilyn Helix, 14.

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Waverly Pond, 15.

Female: Lorelei Avalon, 18.

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Jack Ampere, 17.

Female: Cameron Flinch, 16.

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Gavan Dior, 17.

Female: Karli Hudson, 15.

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Timber Murdock, 17.

Female: Tauria Copin, 17.

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Stitch Hill, 16.

Female: Mirana Capulet, 16.

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Koel Spelt, 14.

Female: Fern Bracken, 16.

**District Ten - Livestock.**

Male: Chord Wickers, 18.

Female: Samia Carson, 14.

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Alto Boulevard, 15.

Female: Zaira Havlin, 17.

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Ashton Myers, 13.

Female: Anastasia Burne, 15.

* * *

**Other Side by Bruno Mars.**

* * *

**Okay, so go ahead and head on over to - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ and have a little looksie at the wonderful tributes.**


	3. Young Blood

**Young Blood.**

_Can't help myself but count the flaws,_ _claw my way out through these walls.  
_

* * *

**Clementine Veal, District One Escort.**

* * *

"Clementine, you're almost ready to go," My assistant, Moore, says quietly. "A few more minutes."

I look to Moore, giving him the slightest of smiles as I pick up my glass of wine, taking another sip. I admit, I love District One. Such a beautiful place! And to think, I started out in that horrible District Twelve, full of those coal people. Once my wine is finished, I watch as my personal stylist applies another layer of pink lipstick. Her eyes train my dress, my hair, and I know she's jealous.

"You're up."

I flash a brilliant smile, standing ready for another beautiful place. Once Moore has evacuated, I let my stylist give me one more look of envy, before strutting out of the room. The door opens, the bright light of Panem beams in and I grin to the bored looking faces of the children. Well, most bored.

Something I've learned about One, volunteers are common, bored looking faces are another. Most of these children aren't going to dash for the limelight for another few years, but the older ones, you see the gleam in their ideas.

I take the microphone in my hand. "_Welcome_ to the Sixty-Sixth annual Hunger Games!"

A few, small cheers ring out from the older ones, but the younger lot keep their stony expressions. I sit back, waiting for the video of our wonderful President to start and finish, before moving back into place and over slightly towards the male bowl. Of course, I know, there's no point to actually expect to grab a slip.

I dig around, flicking for my first slip of this year. I pull it forth, but as per usual, the boys all begin to rush forward. Everyone grabs and pulls each other, like the animals they could easily become, before one powers over the others and gets onto the stage, toned skin and dark hair a wonder.

Smiling, I place my hand on his shoulder and place the microphone between us. "And what is _your_ name?"

"Garnet, Garnet Stone."

His flashes a smile of his own, wonderfully bright, before crossing his arms and showing off his impressive muscles.

I move away, heading over to the girls, but I don't even make it. The boys running causes quite the stir, like usual. The girls run forward, but my eyes find one in particular. Her red hair flips as she runs past the others, knocking the more petite girls out the way. She jumps onto the stage, not even taking the steps, panting hard. I offer her the microphone, and once she's calmed down, she takes it.

"Astor Sheen."

I take it back, ushering the pair to move closer. They shake hands, though Astor a bit reluctantly, before I wrap my arms around their shoulders eagerly.

"Our tributes! What a _beautiful_ pair!"

* * *

**Parlor Frost, District Two Escort.**

* * *

I wait patiently in my spot, letting the potential tributes all fill in the area, covering the pens and looking most definitely not too pleased. Brutus and Enobaria come out the doors, expressions emotionless as they take their seats, though I see the glimmer of Enobaria's golden tipped teeth, at her age, as well. Only sixteen years old this year.

As Brutus notices me, however, I get the same dirty wink as I normally get.

He will never understand there is no chance, but still, his chances are amusing and the attention is _more_ than flattering.

I flip my long black hair over my shoulder, adjusting my outfit and running a finger over my lip, just to make sure my blue lipstick stays perfect.

A smirk forms on my face as the trainees enter the Square, decked out in their all too familiar leather black jackets, each one looking more murderous and twisted as the kid before them. They fill their pens, though I know there deal. They think us escorts are silly and unintelligent. But of course we know. Like every year, one child is already picked and perfected for volunteering, that's why they tend to have older tributes compared to most districts.

"Welcome boys and girls," I drawl, switching the microphones between my hands constantly. "I hope this year is _even_ better than the last."

It doesn't take me long to grab the male slip from the bowl. Just grab the first, that's what they told me. The first and wait for some ignorant child to shout out the fateful words.

"Our male tributes is..." I stop, building the awaiting anticipation. "C-"

"I volunteer!"

I scan the area, seeing the abnormally beautiful but leather-clad boy walk forward. Older, of course. His short blonde hair is slightly styled, muscles bulging through the clothing he's been given. He slips through the teenagers, climbs up the steps and takes a cold, hardened look at the camera, jaw clenched.

"Name?"

He pauses for a moment, before sighing harshly. "Theo Cassius."

"Lovely," I drawl again, before motioning over to the girls and picking the first slip once more.

"And, of course, our wonderful female tribute this year is... B-"

This time, she doesn't even speak. The girl, once again _abnormally_ beautiful for this district, moves forward with a tight leather jacket on and golden curls swishing with each of her steps. She mounts the stage, taking her time and enjoying each moment she gains in attention.

My face contorts into disgust a little as I hand her the microphone.

"Delaney Robb," she speaks with an even voice. "The one and _only_."

* * *

**Decima Pozzle, District Three Escort.**

* * *

I don't understand how I'm always stuck with District Three every year. None of these tributes ever win, never even past the bloodbath! Each face is cold, stony and greased up with sweat and streaks of mud. I don't even understand where they get the mud from, but it's there, smothered across their faces as if they've been working hard.

Do you know who has been working hard? _Me_!

I do everything I can to at least give this pathetic district a winner, but each year, I do all the work and the silly children get themselves killed within minutes.

Wiress and Beetee were an exception.

But then again, I _never_ escorted for either of their years. The kids pack in, many with their glasses and dark hair and just everything that seems so Three-ish, it's no surprise we have no winner. Arenas tend to be about survival, not electronics, and these poor people haven't understood that yet. Shuffling in my dress, I grab my microphone and grin wildly as I move into my position properly.

"_Welcome_!" I cheer, with no response. Sighing, I move to the first bowl, the wonderful females. "So, lets recognise our female tribute this year..."

A few bustle of children, the anticipation rising.

"Addilyn Helix!"

I scan the area, seeing the tell-tale sign of girls parting, isolating the girl in question. Her blonde hair, almost white, streaks in front of her pale face. She blinks a few times, obviously shocked, taking a few deep breaths as she moves forward really slowly and surprisingly, calm.

She climbs the stage, a blank look of her face as she stands there. I take a moment to study her... Very pretty and not at all dirty and streaked like the others.

"Hmm," I smile, crossing for the boys bowl. "And her wonderful partner this year is... Gage Anton!"

A whistle rings out. A boy, very good-looking with dark hair, moves through the crowd with a devilish smirk on his face. Confident looking, possibly even a little happy at the prospect of winning. We may have a winner indeed!

Mounting the steps, he smiles mischievously at Addilyn, before shaking her unresponsive hand.

"Our tributes, everybody!" I beam. "We might have _another_ winner yet!"

* * *

**Aquila Biel, District Four Escort.**

* * *

"Do you think you'll have a great bunch of tributes this year?" Horence asks, taking a sip of his wine and giggling.

I smile, taking a sip of my own. "Well, I _hope_ so. Finnick Odair was such great publicity for me. If I can pull another winner, I'm sure to get promoted and knock that awful Clementine off her spot and claim District One for my own."

"Try your hardest then, my dear."

I knock my entire glass, gaining another drunken giggle from him. "Oh I _will_. Cross your fingers for me, darling, this year is definitely _mine_ once more."

I leave the room, not even accepting the help of my personal Avox, who attempts to open the door before I grab it myself with a grunt. Sometimes, I wonder why I even need personal assistants and help. I'm more than capable of looking after myself. We don't get a lot of winners for no reason.

When I step out onto the platform, my mind takes in the scenery of the sea, rolling against the brown sand. The cerulean sky, the white sun, the hot pavement glistening underneath the feet of the children. Most of the kids are dressed in shorts, shirts and sandals.

Moving over to the boy's bowl, I pull forth the first slip as a girl mounts the stage, calm and collected, completely catching me off-guard.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, I volunteer," the girl smiles wryly. "Lorelei Avalon."

I blink a few times, even looking around to young Finnick and Mags for some recognition, though neither are really paying much attention.

"As I was saying, our male tribute this year is... Hunter F-"

"I volunteer!" someone screams.

My eyes find the boy, young and tanned, screaming and hollering as loud as he can as he runs for the stage, as if it will disappear if he isn't careful.

"And you are sweetheart?"

"Waverly Pond," he speaks with an edge to his voice, looking back to Finnick and winking. "_Best friend_ of the only Finnick Odair."

I light up at that. Friend of Finnick? That means he must be as talented. "How _wonderful_!"

* * *

**Brie Valentina, District Five Escort.**

* * *

The car arrives eventually, the driver looking thoroughly bored as he pulls into stop. I look back to the cameras, giving a curt nod as I usher my two tributes, Jack and Cameron, into the car that'll drive us to the train. Neither speak, neither look too happy, but I can't exactly force them to speak when they don't want too.

Once I've climbed into my seat, Jack and Cameron sit opposite me, both looking out their own, respective windows.

Jack Ampere, a boy who looks tender but fierce with his short curly hair and doe like emerald eyes, was probably one of the most guilty reapings I've ever experienced. He just stood there, mouth hanging, staring at me with utter shock and bewilderment. I could practically feel the guilt bubbling inside me. But he came forward, eventually. The girl, Cameron Flinch however, was almost the polar opposite of him.

She swore loudly, even stalking up the stage as if she was going to hit someone.

"When we arrive at the train, you can speak to Cordelia and Cable, your mentors." I offer a smile.

Jack blinks a few times, as if I'm speaking another language, before gazing back to the window. Cameron, once again living up to being Jack's complete opposite, glares a little with hatred in her eyes. I understand she hates it, she hates everything about it, but I'm simply the messenger, not the one who enforced her into the car.

"Both could be really helpful in understanding what to do."

Cameron looks at me again, hatred a little under control, but still evident. "I need to pee. Are we there yet or is this guy going to drive any slower?"

"We're almost there."

"Good, cause I'm hungry too," Cameron looks back to the window. "_Might_ even do both at the same time. Depends how I feel, be a bit rebellious."

The car soon after rolls to a stop. I flatten my hair, seeing the flashes of cameras covering the windows and causing Jack to squint back in surprise.

"About _time_." Cameron rolls her eyes, opening the door before I even have the chance to get out myself.

At least Cameron's handling it well. Jack, on the other hand, seems like he is in another world. And I don't even blame him, either.

* * *

**Fabriola O'Brian, District Six Escort.**

* * *

"This should be interesting," Polo scoffs, looking to Track. "_More_ freak tributes. I swear, after all these years, I've yet to experience an actual normal child that isn't completely insane or off their rocker. No offence, Track."

"Now, now, I think we have some great tributes this year," I counter. "You shouldn't be putting them down _so_ early!"

"We'll see, Fabriola. You've been around long enough to see them come and go, more messed up than the last."

I roll my eyes, moving over to the doors, letting both Gavan and Karli come back from inspecting their rooms.

"Everything in order?" I smile.

Karli nods, before moving to sit down silently. I guess it must have taken a lot out of her. Gavan shifts from foot to foot, looking at both Polo and Track with suspicion in his eyes, before taking a seat in a booth. He shifts his eyes a little, before sighing deeply and folding his hands on the table.

"So, introduce yourselves then." Polo speaks up.

Neither tribute steps forward, so, I kindly do it for them.

"This is Gavan Dior and Karli Hudson. Your wonderful tributes who are _perfectly normal_."

I drawl out the last words to enhance my point. Gavan with his short, bleach blonde hair and Karli with her dark hair that swishes. Despite the age gap, Karli doesn't look that much shorter, maybe even a little stockier compared to Gavan.

No wonder why tributes tend to not like Polo that much, often abrupt and rude to those before she's even met them. It could all be a strategy, but I've learned over the years that Polo is just plain bitter most of the times. Soon enough, an Avox appears with some food and some wine for us elders, and happily, I sip the glass poured for me as Gavan cuts, cuts, cuts his food with a spoon into tiny, even portions and separating them from touching each other.

"What are you staring at?"

I look up, seeing Gavan staring at Karli. She shrugs her shoulders, confused, but Gavan stares solidly.

"You're staring at me... Why are you staring at me?" Gavan repeats, a little on edge.

"I'm not," Karli says evenly. "Though, if you hate the attention, you're in the wrong place."

Karli lets out a struggled laugh, though no-one joins in. From across the table, I can see Polo's smirk as she realises that Gavan may truly not be completely sound of mind and possibly, maybe, could be a little different. Of course, as Gavan continues to stare suspiciously at Karli as he eats his food carefully, I realise that Polo, once again, is _right_.

* * *

**Olivander Goode, District Seven Escort.**

* * *

"I _hope_ you like your rooms!" I beam, watching Timber edge closer to his room, until he slips him quietly.

Tauria Copin, a bright looking child, looks at me, flashes a smile, then walks to her room happily. I smile, knowing that both my tributes are just so happy with everything. I bet they can't wait to see the Capitol and the wonderful styles! Though, I must admit, we must see the stylist about Tauria's hair. Pixie cuts are wonderful, but completely not the right generation anymore. Times have changed and she just doesn't get that. But she's a lovely child, I'm sure we could do something for her. Timber Murdock, on the other hand, seems definitely odd.

"And how do you like it?" I clap my hands as Tauria returns.

"It's great," Tauria smiles. "I like your hair, Olivander. What colour is it?"

I feel the blush on my cheeks. "It's _aubergine_!"

"It suits you really well."

"Oh, I've already decided your my favourite tribute, _ever_!"

I can hear a snigger coming from the dining room, but ignore it. Blight always has something to say about my attitude towards our tributes. I think they enjoy my personality. After all, many are usually so down and upset about it all, I'm like the light at the end of their tunnel.

The _sun_ on a cloudy day.

Timber leaves his room, dark grin plastered on his face. "And how about you?"

"I hate it," Timber gruffs. "But I'll be killing soon, so it's okay. That includes you, Tauria."

Tauria tilts her head almost playfully, before shrugging her tiny shoulders. "We'll see. Anything is possible."

He looks at me, staring me down. "Your hair is stupid, not lovely. She's clearly lying. You look like a walking eggplant or that someone has puked grape juice over your head in the night."

And with his icy words, he leaves for the dining room, where a roar of laughter rings out from the obnoxious Blight Barker. I gasp, mouth agape, as Tauria frowns and follows him in, leaving enough gap. I can't _believe_ he even said that!

As I walk in, I notice Timber stalking over to Mona, whilst Tauria sits down next to Blight, crossing her hands on her lap. I survey the scenery in front of me. Tauria, lovely and charming with the arrogant Blight, whilst rude Timber with the calm and sophisticated Mona. Definitely not right.

But then again, once I've taught them right, they'll be _perfect_!

* * *

**Fervis Hawkins, District Eight Escort.**

* * *

"I think the most obvious thing to do is to let you both go with the right mentor gender-wise, if you understand." Cecelia smiles lightly at the tributes.

Mirana giggles, sweeping a lock of her bright red hair from her eyes. Mirana Capulet's reaping was definitely a little different compared to most I've done. When I read her name, she just started to move quietly and slowly to the stage. Then, as if on impulse, she starts running the other direction. Quite a sprint, as well, managing to disappear out of the block with a horde of Peacekeepers chasing after her madly.

Of course, I had to keep going, so I done the boys and got Stitch Hill, someone who definitely looks like he belongs in the upper class of Eight. I watched his mother cry, whilst Stitch held his own and kept strong.

Soon enough the Peacekeepers haul Mirana back, in a giggling fit and constantly holding a small coin shaped pocket watch close to her chest, no doubt to be her token. It was probably the most dramatic reaping Eight has ever had. Of course, it makes the popularity for Eight even better and it will definitely keep our tributes from being in the shadows... But it makes me wonder for poor Mirana's mental stability.

"I like that idea," Stitch cuts in. "I think it's quite the choice."

"You have such good manners," I beam. "Your mother taught you _well_."

Stitch smirks a little, but nods. "Thank you. I guess you could say I've had a good upbringing."

"It's settled then. Mirana with me and Stitch with Woof," Cecelia picks at her salad with her fork, before placing it down again and looking deeply at Mirana, whose eyes are focused on her spoon and possibly, her reflection. "Are you okay?"

Mirana shakes her head, like she's been snapped out of a dream, and nods sweetly. "I'm peachy, thanks!"

Switching back from Mirana and Stitch, I can't help but be proud of our selection this year. Such great tributes with loving personalities and attributes. My work almost seems effortless. Stitch scoots a little closer to Mirana, picking up his fork with a grin.

"Your hair is _interesting_," Stitch remarks, using his fork to point at her brightened locks. "I like it."

Mirana giggles once more, pulling forth her little pocket watch and giving it a kiss. She stops, holding it out to show Stitch. "Do you like this? I think it's so pretty. It reminds me of the stories my mom used to tell me."

As Mirana continues her story, I zone out, looking to Woof who seems to be muttering something to himself. I look at Cecelia, who smiles sadly and shakes her head, confirming my suspicious of his age catching up to him quickly. It could be dangerous for Stitch, but then again, Cecelia will back him up. Poor Woof. I come back into the conversation, just to hear Mirana mention something about fairy tales and to see Stitch roll his eyes as he looks away from her.

Everything could go wrong because of this. And to think, I thought we might have a Victor this year. Sadly, that doesn't look _so_ possibly anymore.

* * *

**Castor Kamaretti, District Nine Escort.**

* * *

I need my promotion this year. I'm sick and tired of having to escort for lower districts. I done time with District Eleven, which was awful, because all you get is the harsh glares of the children and murderous stares from the Peacekeepers that seem to flock in that district. Then, a year in District Ten, which was better but constantly feels like you're out of place.

District Nine, on the other hand, is much better but still not perfect. One or Two would be ideal! They get the best publicity. Though, Nine has its perks. It's always sunny and hot, perfect for my suits without sweating too much like back in Eleven, but also they are more laid-back and serene. You never get ruly tributes because sometimes, I seem to think that they are dumbed down. But it makes my job easier - all that needs to happen now is that one of them actually wins.

But this year, it's completely different. It's almost as if I've got tributes who are determined to make my career die on the spot.

I look over as Fern Bracken makes her way in. Her dirty blonde hair and permanent scowl doesn't help her with looks, but I'm sure the Capitol can do something. She takes her seat, glaring at me from the corner of her eye.

"Is something wrong, Fern?"

Her head snaps in my direction. "You chose my name. Out of all the girls in the whole of freakin' Nine, and you choose _me_. You _ass_."

"Well I'm _sorry_," I wave the comment away. "But whining about it won't get you anywhere."

"You'll regret it. I _never_ forget my grudges."

"You do that, my dear," I roll my eyes as Koel Spelt walks in, eyes shifting awkwardly at Fern.

Auckland and Victory pick on the tension almost immediately, and whilst I won't bother getting involved, it wouldn't hurt to listen. I get up, heading to the beverages tray to collect some hot chocolate, waiting for them to question the thick atmosphere.

"What's going on then? Why is there all this tension?" Auckland asks.

_Bingo_.

"He thought it was funny to sneak into my room whilst I was having a shower and screw all my clothes up. Don't worry, I _won't_ forget. But my list is just getting longer and longer."

I almost immediately know it is about me. The rude child, threatening an elder and more importantly, her escort.

"I didn't do anything and you have _no_ proof." Koel retorts accusingly.

"Sleep with one eye open, Koel," Fern mock-whispers. "_One eye open_."

Spinning around, I flash a smile at Victory, who only glares. I fight about the laugh as I walk out the room, hearing the anthem for Panem as the recaps begin to play on the screen. I hope Fern is terrified by the Careers. They'll hunt her down within seconds, and when she might possibly be dead, how will she keep her pretty, little list? Koel won't have a chance with his age. Looks like my promotion is gone for this year.

* * *

**Harmonica Veal, District Ten Escort.**

* * *

One is the first to appear on the screen. As per usual, Clementine does her best at being the center of attention compared to her actual tributes. That's the one thing I've never liked about my baby sister. She rose to the top so quickly, yet she only got there for constantly flipping her hair back and forth and smiling pretty at the camera. True, that's what us escorts do, but she always knew how to take it that little bit further.

The Careers are the most obvious threats this year. The boy from Three looks rather confident, but besides that, no other tributes stand out to me that much. Though, the Eight reaping was rather hilarious and the guy from Seven looked like a threat, also.

My eyes flick to both Chord and Samia, watching the screen intently.

Chord Wickers is a strong looking boy, standing tall with broad shoulders, though with a lean side to him. He's handsome, so sponsors shouldn't be a problem and he could get a decent score, so he could propel himself far in the competition. Samia Carson is twice as adorable as any child I've ever seen, so that alone should mean she's popular with the Capitol and those who take the time to pay out their money.

"You guys have some strong competition," Lucky Dagotto nods slowly, absorbing the information. "Strong indeed."

"I think we'll be okay, right, Sami?" Chord grins at the small girl.

She nods excitedly, obviously comforted by his attention towards her.

My heart pulls for them both. Sometimes, only cruel kids deserve this fate. Not the nice, genuine ones that wouldn't hurt a fly. It's probably the main thing I despise about the Hunger Games. Not the kids dying, but rather the choice method and allowing decent kids to die.

"I'll make sure to get you some great sponsors. With your looks, Chord, and Sami's cuteness, you should have them pouring in," I grin. "Then, if you have a talent, you should use it. Bring some attention to our district and yourselves."

"I sing, if that _helps_?" Chord shrugs.

"That's _perfect_. When you can, especially on camera, sing. It'll sure be a great way to keep attention on yourself."

"Harmonica, don't be their mentor," Buttercup Springton warns. "That's our job. Just do your sponsors and dining thing, leave the rough and tough to us."

I nod, holding my hands in defense as I watch our reapings arrive. And of course, I make sure not to strip the attention away from the tributes. That's why I always was the better sister of us both.

* * *

**Ginger Deschanel, District Eleven Escort.**

* * *

I pat down Zaira Havlin's hair, smoothing it. It's wonderful, truly beautiful hair that shines, something I've rarely seen in Eleven. I can feel the train rolling to a stop, halting forward with anger. So far, it hasn't been a good way. A wardrobe malfunction, the cameras not working properly at the reaping and then the train struggling to start for the journey. And now, finally, we've arrived.

"We've arrived," I smile at Zaira. "Have to make sure you look your best for the cameras!"

I run my fingers through her hair again, seeing the anger from Seeder's eyes. I would be envy too with hair like hers!

Seeder moves over, swatting my hands away.

"Ginger, stop it, she looks fine and you're just making her more nervous."

I shake my head. "I hardly doubt that. She is more than capable at handling the crowds!"

Alto Boulevard, a young boy with pale skin that makes him stand out compared to most Eleven inhabitants, takes this moment to enter the room, head to the side as he watches us curiously. Chaff smirks, leaning against the doorway as Seeder attempts to sort Zaira's hair on her own.

"So I'm not allowed to do it, but you are?"

"_I'm_ her mentor," Seeder counters. "Of course I'm allowed."

I put my hands on my hips. "Technically, you are not her mentor. Chaff is. You want to be Alto's."

"Still a mentor compared to an escort."

"I know how to conduct yourself and impress the audience, I've been doing this for years, and what training do you have Seeder?"

She stops, taking an angry sigh. "No training, but I went into an arena and watched twenty-three children die. Then, I came out and repeated that year after year after year, only seeing one of my children win once in a while. Have _you_ fought for your life, Ginger?"

"I have not, no, but that doesn't mean you _instantly_ know more than me."

"You're right, but I'm a mentor, whereas your job is to make sure they conduct themselves properly, _once_ we've actually arrived in the Capitol. For now, you don't do nothing."

I look at Zaira, whose considerably shrunk and looks uncomfortable, possibly on the verge of tears. When I look at Seeder, she flashes a "back off" look and so, I do. But nobody, nobody, knows how to be an escort than me.

* * *

**Pashmina Warr, District Twelve Escort.**

* * *

"We've arrived!"

I _hate_ Twelve with all my being. It's disgusting, it's repulsive, these people are from the slums and reek of coal, dust and poverty. I know this is my first ever year, but surely, I should have been given another district that isn't so... Useless. Even Eleven or Ten would have been perfect. Anything but this constant dust and dirt.

I'm so glad to be back in the Capitol. Being an escort is tough work, but being a Twelve escort is probably the worst ever.

Haymitch Abernathy is one of the other many reasons why I hate my job. A drunk is one thing, but an arrogant man both drunk and sober, possibly even worse when the alcohol is brewing in his system.

I look over to the tributes, Ashton Myers and Anastasia Burne, both considerably young compared to the other districts. Everyone seemed to scratch up some older tributes that at least look threatening. Twelve? A fifteen year old and a thirteen year old.

"When the door opens, you're going to be swamped with cameras. Remember, not only are you representing your district and yourselves, but also me. Looking shabby will only come back against me harshly," I look to Ashton, a fine layer of sweat on his forehead. "So wipe that dirt off your face and look proper."

Haymitch sniggers, taking another deep swig of his whiskey, before smiling lazily. "You don't need to get your panties in a bunch, sweetheart."

"We need another Victor," I scowl. "A _competent_ one, hopefully."

The windows are instantly swarmed by the flashes of cameras and people, all ducking in to see the tributes in question. I quickly apply another layer of red lipstick, pump my hair up a tad to ensure I look great at the very least, before ushering both kids towards the door. Ashton runs a hand through his strawberry blonde, curly locks, before grinning mischievously. Anastasia, on the other hand, seems to cower back as the doors open, revealing the crowd.

Taking the lead, I put my hands on their backs and push them through the crowd. Luckily, I'm wearing white travel gloves, so it should be okay.

Haymitch disappears, and I'm not even worried about him.

Soon enough, after a few curious photographers who push too far, we get inside the wonderful building.

"You two need to get to your stylists immediately," I wave down an Avox. "_Make_ sure that Enzo hurries up. We need him here, _pronto_!"

I turn back to both the children, smiling as true as I can in this situation.

"You two will _love_ it here. Happy Hunger Games."

I walk back, knowing they're in the capable hands of Enzo and that should be enough. I scoot past the foyer, noticing Haymitch collapsed into a chair, no doubt semi-unconscious.

Being an escort for Twelve is so hard. Good luck to the future escorts getting this one, it's a real _hoot_.

* * *

**Young Blood by Birdy.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place.**

* * *

**I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

* * *

**Sorry for the sucky escort names, it was really hard! So yes. I'm now working on alliances, who to put with who. Might be a little bit until the next update, so around a week, I should say.**


	4. Rangers

**Rangers_._**

_They are the hunters, we are the rabbits.__  
_

* * *

**Garnet Stone, District One Male.**

* * *

"You know, Cashmere, I think we could make something special," I smile at Cashmere, who only looks at me with disgust. It's okay, I can work with that. "No need to turn your nose up at it."

"Stick with kids your own age." Cashmere sneers.

"Kids my age are... What's the right word... _Stupid_."

Cashmere laughs, throwing back her golden curls and showing off her perfect, tanned neck. "As you said. Kids your age are stupid."

She saunters off, a mocking swish in her step. Garnet always gets what he wants. And if it isn't her, then it's Astor. Though, to me, she seems rather rough-cut and flawed. But that's okay, because everyone can become a diamond with a little perfection added to them. I could be the one that sweetens Astor the right way. She notices my look on her, gives a conscious eye to her own outfit, before looking away as if nothing happens. Gloss instantly gives me a wary look over her shoulder, before carrying on talking to her sweetly.

So if not Cashmere or Astor, then that only leaves me with either the girls from Two or Four. Both my age, which makes it easier without the drama.

"You need to get up onto the chariot now," my stylist insists. "Astor will be over in a second."

I give a disgruntled grunt, just because I do not like him whatsoever. As I step up, I can see the jewels glisten and dance underneath the lights of the Remake Centre. My outfits matches Astor's down to a tee, including the colour and jewels. Navy blue this year. Apparently, it's to show royalty and upper class.

My eyes find Theo, the boy from Two, as well as Waverly, the boy from Four. Easy names to remember. Hard to miss the blonde muscle and cocky little fisherman. Both make pointless allies, but of course, nature has to take it's course and that means keeping things like they've always been.

"_Move_."

I look at Astor as she climbs up, arms crossed over her chest.

"Fiery, I _like_ it," I smirk. "I can work with that."

She looks at me, letting her eyes train up and down my perfect sculpture of a body. "You don't look like you've worked a day in your life."

"I've worked _plenty_, actually." I counter.

"_Sure_ you have, pretty boy," Astor smiles, and I have no idea whether it's sweet or sarcastic. "Whereas me, I'm from Blackdamp. I know work. I know what it's like to have to fight for your food, work for it, earn it. You look like you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is," Astor's smile turns into a cocky smirk. "In fact, I probably insulted your friends, maybe even you, at some point. You never know. Fate can be a bitch, sometimes."

I open my mouth, just as Gloss comes over, smiling sweetly at Astor as if she's the most perfect thing in the world. But he'll have some tough competition, I can give him that. Because I like my girls tough, and Astor is beyond right.

"Everything alright?" Gloss asks, mainly keeping his eyes on Astor.

"Absolutely _dandy_, thanks."

* * *

**Delaney Robb, District Two Female.**

* * *

"Theo?"

Theo turns around, eyes curious but strained underneath the bright lights.

"What, Delaney?"

I pause for a moment, making sure that the pair from One aren't turned around just yet. "Do you trust _any_ of them?"

"Delaney," Theo turns and gives me an infamous smile of his. "We've not even spoke to them yet, so no, not really. Wait until training starts. Then, possibly, we'll find out."

"So smart sometimes," I flirt, running my hand down his arm. "That's why you were chosen this year. Because you're more than brawn."

"Thanks," Theo laughs, taking my hand off his arm. "I'll take that as a compliment. Though you should remember, enemies in here."

I nod, still smirking as I look back to the girl from Four. I know nothing about her, but she seems different to the others. Her reaping was just her, walking up to the stage, miles before her actual chance. She's either that competent or completely stupid. She notices me, giving a little smile and wave, which I have to return as part of the rules. The boys, however, look easy enough to manipulate and twist into doing whatever I say.

"You know, I think you should be the leader," I suddenly say, causing Theo to turn around. "The rest look a little... _Different_, if you ask me."

"You don't like anyone, though."

I laugh. "I suppose so. I like you though, don't I?"

"Either that or you're just _really_ calculating and have been faking our friendship for the last few months we're been training even harder for this."

"Never," I smile. "Training in a pair is much more exciting. Brings out all these kinds of emotions in a person."

Just then, the doors begin to slowly open, revealing the screams and cheers. The chariot lurches forward, Theo puts on his best smile and extends his hand to wave, whilst I do my best to look completely sweet and innocent. Bright light catches my eyes, but soon enough, it subdues to reveal the crowd practically at my feet.

I snake my hand around Theo's dropped one, linking our fingers. He notices, gives it a look, before carrying on, but not without a little jerk of his head into the direction behind us.

I turn around, just in time to see the pair from Three get into the limelight, and that's when the boy from Three blows me a kiss.

"He blew a kiss at me." I hiss to Theo.

He shrugs his shoulders, smile still great. "Looks like _another_ admirer to the massive list you have already."

"I guess so." I reply, but without conviction as the boy continues to make gushy faces at me.

* * *

**Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.**

* * *

I smile shyly, more to myself, just as I hear my name get called out once. I find the source of the voice really easy, a boy at the front who looks not that much older than me. I can't return the smile, or even nod, but he doesn't stop screaming my name as if I'm someone important or famous.

Gage, on the other hand, gets no screams but manages to keep up his tirade of blowing kisses and waving kindly at the girl from Two in front of us.

I don't even need to say anything. Me and Gage are on two different wavelengths. Then again, he never bothered with me much after the reaping. He shook my hand, acted perfect in front of both Wiress and Beetee, but managed to sneer and even eyed me up like a piece of meat afterwards. Definitely a two-sided personality with him, though, he acts accordingly in front of everyone else that matters. But never me. With me, it's the real Gage Anton.

"They'll let me in easily," Gage says to no-one in particular. "Like taking candy from a _baby_."

I don't respond. Probably not even for me anyway.

"Bunch of idiots. Flutter your eyelashes and they fall to their knees."

The chariot at front soon comes to a stop, reaching the circle. Two slows down as well, followed by us. I wait, suddenly feeling myself awkward and tense between them all. Four pulls up on the other side of me, leaving them on one side and Gage on the other. Three are probably at the most disadvantage of the tributes. Stuck between the Careers, and in my case, a sociopath planning to join the Careers.

President Snow begins to talk. Gage keeps his eye on the girl. Four don't even bother looking at me, and slowly, I feel a bit better.

I wouldn't even know who to ally with, like Wiress and Beetee suggest for us.

The only other kids my age are the boy from Nine and the girl from Ten, neither look like the greatest of allies. No offence to them.

"You know, your reaping was _kinda_ pointless," Gage remarks through a whisper. "You clearly were shadowed by me."

I take a while to reply. "I'm fine with that."

"Sure you are. Won't do you any good, though. To think, when they think of giving their precious money to Three, it'll be for me. The one who actually _made_ an impression and didn't slide away."

I simply look away, choosing not to respond anymore. He's right, of course, I didn't make the needed impact. But besides that, my strengths lie elsewhere. And unlike him, I don't plan on putting all my cards on the table. Makes you more exposed.

President Snow clears up his speak, and slowly, the chariots roll out of the circle, back to the Remake Centre. The minute we're under the exposed lighting, and Beetee shows up, Gage lightly rubs my shoulder and sighs almost pitifully.

"She done brilliantly, Beetee, a _true_ fighter."

"Wonderful."

* * *

**Waverly Pond, District Four Male.**

* * *

I jump off the chariot, not even waiting for Lorelei to move forward much. She turns around just as my feet hit the ground, smiling and shaking her head as she heads off to Mags, waiting proudly. My eyes find Finnick, storming over with a stomp in his step.

The moment he gets close, his fist flies out, punching me.

"You _idiot_!"

"What the hell?" I retort. "Dude, that's _not_ cool. I need to keep in shape, not be bruised and battered!"

"Do you have _any_ idea what you are actually doing?" Finnick pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's not a party, Wave. You saw what I went through last year. You should know better."

"But that's the point, man, you got _so_ much from it. The minute your name is said in class, I can hear the girls swooning. You're a self-proclaimed hero," I throw my hands in the air, laughing loudly. "And besides, you made it look so easy with your net and trident, just spearing the suckers like fish in a barrel."

"I had training. I had an advantage. Shouting that your my friend kinda hints you trained with me. That we know similar stuff. They know what to expect, Wave!"

I take the news in, shrugging my shoulders afterwards. "No biggie. Makes me look a threat, actually."

"It doesn't," Finnick sighs deeply. "It makes you a walking _target_."

"I'll get sponsors!"

"Which isn't enough to stay alive!"

"But _you_ got a trident!"

"Because _I_ had skills hidden! Don't you see? You've gone and placed everything you know, every skill, every tiny little detail about yourself on show, exposed, when it should have stayed hidden for a surprise. You have nothing under your sleeve anymore, Wave." Finnick's voice breaks at the end, ever so slightly.

My breath catches, but I manage to pull it back. "I'll learn something new in training. Find a new skill that I can use."

He sighs again, running his hand down his face. "Try man, just please, do it."

"No sweat," I laugh, patting Finnick on the back. "As I mentioned, I'm your friend, I'm basically Victor already."

* * *

**Jack Ampere, District Five Male.**

* * *

Cameron's quick to slam her finger into the button for the elevator, clearly wanting to go up. When it doesn't arrive quick enough, she punches the button a few times, expecting the thing to travel a lot faster. Cordelia and Cable disappeared rather early, possibly tired, leaving just us left.

"Stupid elevator," Cameron grunts. "I just want to go upstairs, get something to eat and go to bed. Is that _so_ wrong to ask?"

"Who you talking too?"

She spins around, eyebrows knitted together. "Ugh, forget about it, might as well talk to myself instead. Not that you're a great conversationalist."

"That's not very nice."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I can be not very nice," Cameron rolls her eyes as she turns around, punching the button again. "I hate this clothing. Seriously making me itch."

"I didn't need to know that."

"_Well_, tough luck."

The elevator dings, just as the doors open up and Cameron slides in angrily, punching the button before I've even got in. I jump the gap, standing next to her as she repeatedly hits the button again and again. Soon enough, they close, and the mechanical whirl goes as he rise.

"We're gonna end up being allies, you know?" Cameron suddenly says. "I doubt anyone else would want to be with me. Or you, for that matter."

I pause, pursing my lips. "I don't want an ally, actually."

"Alone?" Cameron drawls out the word. "Really?"

"Yes, really, why, is something wrong with that?"

Cameron shrugs. "No, of course not. But no offence, but you don't exactly _seem_ the type to either pull in sponsors or be able to handle something as near threatening like a sword."

My eyes turn from placid to glares within seconds, but Cameron doesn't seem fazed. "So, you're _basically_ saying I'm ugly and weak?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds mean," Cameron runs a hand through her hair. "But basically, yeah."

"Thanks a lot Cameron, you'd make a perfect Victor in coaching your tributes with confidence."

The doors slide open, another ding, but I quickly disappear into the Five floor, leaving Cameron behind, though I know she'd be heading over to the kitchen as we speak. How dare she. I mean, I don't need anyone. No-one. I can do it all perfectly on my own without being dragged down by someone. Her criticism is not wanted. Never wanted. But as I quickly go to my bedroom, I hear her laugh, repeating the conversation to Cable sat on the couch.

Allies... Like I need them. I can do this all by myself.

* * *

**Karli Hudson, District Six Female.**

* * *

The moment I wake up in the morning, I climb out of bed, stretching my arms. The day looks perfect. Then, with a flick of a switch on the remote, it turns into a starry night once more. Anything you want at the touch of a button. Honestly, that's one of the few perks about this place.

"Karli, time to get up!"

"I'm already up!" I move to the door, swinging it open to reveal our escort, Fabriola. "I said, I'm already up, Fabriola."

"I can see that now. Behind a closed door, anything can happen."

I smirk, waggling my eyebrows. "Like behind your door? You and Track getting it _on_?"

She pulls a face of disgust, walking down the hall to bang down Gavan's door. You hear a shuffle, before Fabriola practically forces herself through the door with a grunt. I hear her gasp, before finding myself running along the carpeted floors to peer into Gavan's bedroom.

"Whoa."

Gavan stands there, pretty much half-naked apart from boxers and t-shirt, pressed against the wall staring wide-eyed at Fabriola. But that's not even the interesting part. The bed is cleared, bedding rolled around on the floor in a perfect shape. It's pressed down on each corner, at a perfect angle, pillows fluffed. It almost looks like a made bed, just on the floor rather than a mattress.

"Gavan, why is your bedding on the _floor_?"

I can see the Adam's apple in his throat bob up and down, but apart from that, he acts casual. As if it isn't important. "The bed has pointy edges. So I slept on the floor."

He rushes over, suddenly not so self-conscious, scooping up the bedroom and laying it down on his bed. He takes his time, tucking in the corners and smoothing it out constantly, repeatedly, ensuring a single tuft is nowhere in sight. Fabriola tells him someone else will clean it, but he doesn't listen, muttering to himself about "neat" as he continues.

"You know, I think Gavan has a _little_ problem there. And I'm not talking about the bedding, if you get what I mean." I laugh, nudging Fabriola in the side.

Her face is stony, as she places her hands on my shoulders and leads me away. "Not the time, Karli."

Soon enough, a bit through breakfast, Gavan appears, dressed and constantly running his hands over the fabric of the clothes handed to him. Polo smirks as he takes a seat, opting for the sppon to cut through his meal once more.

"Sleep well, Gavan?" Polo tilts her head mockingly.

"It was fine, thanks," Gavan takes a small chunk and chews a few times before swallowing. "Floor was a bit hard."

I burst out laughing, just as Polo continues her devilish smile at him. "The floor?"

"Lets not talk about it!" Fabriola cuts in abruptly. "Lets enjoy breakfast before they go, shall we?"

* * *

**Tauria Copin, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"I hope you two have _so_ much fun down there!" Olivander chirps, smiling at the table. "I would come escort you both, but you seem capable enough!"

"_I_ wouldn't want you there anyway," Timber replies with an edge to his voice. "Just me and Tauria is bad enough."

I eye Timber up as I walk to the elevator, knowing his eyes are trained on me the whole way. The elevator opens and quietly, we step in. But this time when I look at Timber, the anger and constant darkness in his eyes are gone, replaced by a vulnerability I've never quite seen before.

"You know, insulting our escort is a dangerous thing," I remark through the silence. Timber doesn't look at me, though. "I mean, if you think about it, Olivander, Blight and Mona are our last connections to the real world until someone wins."

"Sorry."

My head snaps in his direction, but Timber keeps his eyes anywhere but mine. He shuffles awkwardly, moving just a little bit away from me, as if suddenly scared of me or something. I move to put my hand on him, but he flinches, just as the door opens, blinding light catching our attention. Timber quickly exits, head bowed down, whilst I walk out pretty calm. Everyone else is in the same position as me, so would I should I act scared? No. Gotta be positive.

As we stand in our circle, Timber metres away from me, I take my time to look at my competitors. The Careers, as per usual, look frightening. Five look like they're arguing with each other quietly, hushed, angry whispers. The girl from Six keeps a placid smile, her partner, looking jittery and conscious at every other person.

The only tributes who aren't here yet seem to be the pair from Eleven, I can't find the little boy from Nine, nor the girl from Eight.

"My name is Atala, your head trainer. Now, the rules are pretty simple if you ask me. Four tributes to a station at a time. No fighting amongst yourselves, that's what the trainers are for. I suggest you try out as many stations as possible, rather than just weapons or survivals. Take a look at our opponents, but don't lose focus. You can unleash yourself in a few days when you're in the arena, not my training centre."

Everyone seems to understand, and before I know it, everyone scatters off in their direction.

I wait around, as if expecting Timber to come towards me, but he doesn't. His evil grin returns and he saunters off to a station with axes and hatchets.

I could try survival. I mean, it could be beneficial. But then again, survivals aren't exactly a way to protect yourself when in the arena. You need weapons. Just then, the doors to an elevator open, revealing the pair from Eleven. The girl, Zaira I think, makes her way over to Atala to be scolded, before gingerly making her way over to a station with a collection of daggers and also the girl from Two.

"Her," I say to myself. "I could be with her. Yeah. Okay, come on Tauria, you _can_ do this."

* * *

**Stitch Hill, District Eight Male.**

* * *

"Lets go to this one, Stitch," Mirana beams, skipping ahead to a station that has nothing but vine and some sticks. "Stitch, come _on_!"

Reluctantly, I cross the floor, keeping my eyes on all the others that seem to be interested in me of all the others. Nobody really stands out too much if they're not Careers. Though, surprisingly, the boy from Three already has his claws in the boy from Four, talking and joking, no doubt getting his acceptance with the rest of the neanderthals. Mirana flips a piece of red hair, before handing me a piece of vine.

"We could always do skipping!"

"I don't think that's the idea, Mirana," I say carefully. "I think you need to make traps with it."

Her smile turns into a pout, before a frown appears. "But I don't want to hurt people."

I feel like calling her idiot, saying that it's kinda stupid to feel like that in a place when twenty-three others, including myself, are _waiting_ for her blood to be spilt so they can return home. But I don't. No, I keep my mouth closed, let my lips turn into a small smile, and gently rub a circle on her shoulder comfortingly.

"No-one does, but hey, tell the rest of them that."

Mirana's smile returns, collecting her little pocket watch from around her neck and giving it another, tiny kiss. I look away, unable to handle Mirana's personality, when my eyes catch the boy from One heading over to the sword station. He swings it around, rather carelessly, before driving it into the white dummy and gaining an applause from the trainer.

"Mirana, I'm going to go try a weapon out, okay?"

But I doubt she gets my words. She mutters something, absorbed into her pocket watch and mumbles, so I just leave her. I don't even want an alliance with anyone, to be truthful. Me being on my own will be enough for me, I think.

I head on other to the sword station, ignoring the glare from the boy from One as I pick up a sword. Lighter and thinner than his, but it does the job. I give it a poor swing, which gains a snort from One, before I drive it into the other dummy. I'm not even showing off. But if he can do it, so can _I_.

Come to think of it, that was easy. Maybe a sword is my best choice. Dangerous, threatening and quite a good advantage.

"You're _pathetic_," One sneers. "Thinking you can handle a sword like a pro."

He walks away, but I'm not discouraged. Mirana spins, finally, giving me a little wave as I drive the sword into the material again. I'm practically full of glee when I realise that this, this sword, could work for me.

Yep. This could be amazing.

* * *

**Koel Spelt, District Nine Male.**

* * *

I watch Fern, carefully from behind a station, as she picks up a knife and inspects it closely. Then, she drops it, glaring right in my direction.

"Seriously, are you _trying_ to piss me off even more?"

Standing up, I smile. "I have _no_ idea what you mean, Fern."

"Yes, yes you do," Fern glares. "Go away, you annoying little cockroach. You're just pushing yourself further and further up my list, you know."

"You did tell me to sleep with one eye open and you never came in," I retort with a smirk. "And I was waiting for you, with one eye open."

"Good," Fern picks the knife up again. "Because you better learn to keep doing that. I'll strike when you _least_ expect."

"You don't scare me."

"Oh, but I should," Fern runs her finger along the blade, smiling a little evil. "My list is huge. So many people, so little time. Pushing yourself up further is just a bad thing, Koel. I don't let anyone get one over on me. No-one gets away with doing something to me and walking away, _unharmed_."

I stare Fern down, watching her movements and her smile, even her eyes, which glint underneath the lights. She places the knife back down, steps around, and comes closer to me without a word.

"You know Castor, right?" Fern speaks in a whisper. "I've already got my payback on him. Right now, as we speak, he should be coming across all the jam and marmalade I put underneath his pillows."

I can't fight back the laugh that erupts, but as people look, Fern keeps her glare in tact. She smiles once more, walking away and straightening out her clothes as she disappears off to the fire-making station where the pair from Five are, still arguing like they were earlier. The best thing I do have, luckily, is I'm quite small and stealthy. No-one knew I was there, right there with them all. I've spied on them all.

A little clap and applause rings out, and when I turn around, not far from me, the boy from Eleven is poised with a bow, his arrow embedded just a few metres from the middle of his target. He could be a good ally. Alto, I think his name is.

Slowly, I'll make my way over. I go back to the knife that Fern left, picking it up and inspecting it myself. It has teeth on one side, like a shark I've seen in books. Bit by bit, I skip the stations, watching each tribute and getting closer and closer to Alto.

Jam and marmalade.

I smile, ducking behind another station. And when Fern goes to bed tonight, she'll find a similar present underneath her pillow.

* * *

**Samia Carson, District Ten Female.**

* * *

"Chord, can you help me?"

He looks at me, offers a kind smile, then helps me wrap the knot around and around until it's tight enough. I like Chord. He's kind, gentle, but he does have a bit of a naughty side to him. He couldn't resist singing in the shower this morning, and then, when Lucky asked him to be quite, he just started to scream the lyrics to a poem out of tune and obnoxiously. Then, that girl from Nine came over, and Chord pull me a little closer and kept me away from her.

"You know, Sami, I think it should just be us two."

I look at him, blinking a few times. "Pardon?"

"Allies," Chord laughs. "I don't really want to go out and try talking to any of these. I don't think they'll like me too much, and well, people my own age tend to hate me for my attitude. And also, I want to make sure _you're_ not on your own in there. So, what do you say?"

Tears begin to gloss my eyes, and quickly, Chord wipes one away with his finger.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes."

I laugh, nodding my head. "Yes. Thank you, Chord, for _everything_."

"Don't sweat it. I'm sure if roles were reversed, you would have done the same thing," Chord ties up his knot pretty easily. "Well, I hope you would have."

I play around with my knot some more, just enjoying the sense of calm you get when being around Chord sometimes. Although, he does have a split personality, I think. With me, he acts differently than he does when Lucky, Buttercup or Harmonica are around. He's kind, calm, serene and protective. With them, he's a bit loud, bubbly, joking and showing off his spirit. But either way, Chord is Chord, and that's great.

"How about we try some weapons?" Chord asks, putting his knot back on the table.

I nod, not quite sure what I can actually do. But instantly, I smile, as Chord leads me over to a specialist station.

"Excuse me?" Chord asks the trainer. "Do you have a lasso?"

"A lasso?"

"_Indeed_," Chord smirks. "Can we have two?"

The trainer furrows his eyebrows, but ducks underneath the station to reveal two, rope made lassos that look like the owns back at home, on the farm. Chord grips his, smiles, and leads me over to a group of dummies.

"Ready Sami? Lets bring some District Ten to this _boring_ place."

* * *

**Zaira Havlin, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

"Hi there," I look up, noticing the girl from Seven, standing just a little too close for comfort. "I'm sorry, this is going to sound _so_ rude no doubt, but do you feel like being allies?"

She stands there, smiling with her arms crossed over her stomach. I look around her, just in time to see Alto score once again with his arrow, gaining another applause from the trainer teaching him. And her partner, he's not far away from them, swirling an axe.

"I'm okay for the moment," I say politely. "Sorry."

"That's fine, I'm okay with it," Seven smiles again. "I'm Tauria, by the way."

Tauria sits down next to me, taking some rope into her hand and quickly trying to fashion a knot. Each time, she looks at mine and then the trainers, constantly making sure her's is just as good, possibly even better. She seems nice, laughing lightly when she makes a mistake and shrugging the failure off. But I'm not really looking for allies. Maybe when I realise that I need it, but for now, on day one, that's off-limits. Alto hasn't made any allies yet, though the boy from Nine slides closer and closer, thinking he's hidden, like a chameleon, ever-changing.

"I know you said no allies, but do you think I could just stay here? I don't exactly want to spend any time with Timber, since he's acting weird."

I nod, but really, it doesn't bother me too much. "If you really want to."

"You should smile some more," Tauria knocks her shoulder into mine. "You have a pretty smile. I saw it briefly during the chariot ceremony. It's pretty."

What is her game? "Possibly."

"No need to act tough around me, I'm fine if you just want to cry or something."

"Why do you think I want to cry?" I say, just a little bit too defensively. "Do I _look_ like I want to cry right now?"

Tauria shrugs. "Not now, no. But you do look a little... Awkward, no offence, only a little bit. More _sad_, I guess."

I pick up the little rope in front of me, playing with it through my fingers. My heart beats just a little bit faster, and I guess, I do look awkward sometimes. I must look awkward now. Slowly, I look back at Tauria, who only offers that comforting smile once more that screams optimism.

"As I said, you can do what you want around me," Tauria stands up. "I'm fine with whatever."

She holds out her hand, but I get up by myself, deciding that even though she says that, my walls need to stay put in place. Tauria points towards some axes, still smiling.

"Why don't we try that? I'll show you how to hold one."

Tauria begins to walk off, and for some reason, my feet begin to move after her.

* * *

**Ashton Myers, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"Ashton Myers. You behave yourself _right now_!" Pashmina scolds, pointing her finger at me.

I roll her eyes, which she notices, gasping and jerking her finger more into my direction.

"Are you _trying_ to poke my eyes out?" I hold out my hands, absolutely peeved. "Because you're doing a good job with your freaky long nails."

Pashmina gasps again. "You need to learn to not be so rude!"

"Whatever," I wave the comment off. "Go bug Anastasia or something and leave me alone."

"Anastasia, unlike you, has some manners at the very least and not a complete animal," Pashmina stops, running a hand through her hair and sighing. "Okay, so you're going to need a lot more work compared to Anastasia. It's okay. I suppose I can help make you even the slightest bit of a human."

"At least I have a personality that doesn't resemble _cardboard_." I retort as I walk back to the dining room.

Pashmina follows, still at a loss. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with you."

Soon enough, perfect timing, Anastasia walks into the room, her face a little uncertain, as if she's intruding on some special moment between me and the airhead sociopath. She sits down after Pashmina ushers her too, still looking like a timid mouse in the midst of a feline. I watch Anastasia wiggle underneath the glare, before laughing a little.

"What's so funny, Ashton?" Pashmina snaps.

"Besides you, absolutely nothing," I smile the comment away. "I can't wait to get back down there tomorrow. Will be such a treat to get some allies at the very least."

"Do you have someone, Anastasia?" Pashmina asks, snapping a dirty look in my direction before letting her face fall placid as she looks at Ana.

"The girl from Six," Anastasia shrugs. "Karli. She seems nice enough."

"Nice enough."

"Ashton, be quiet," Pashmina hisses. "If you think so, good for you. I hope she looks good, at the very least. An ugly tribute will only bring you down, lovely."

"Because in this environment, skills and weapons mean nothing clearly," I cut in, until Pashmina gives me that same look like she always does. "Just voicing my opinion."

"Maybe it's _not_ wanted."

Anastasia just simply nods, still being her mousy-self, until dinner arrives. Haymitch is nowhere to be seen, no doubt drowning his sorrows in alcohol and unconsciousness. Pashmina ushers us over, as if we're idiots, before sitting down herself on the far end of the table away from us. Anastasia sends me a funny look, but I can't help but smile as I dig up a hand full of food and stuff it into my mouth.

Pashmina pulls a face, Anastasia shrinks into her seat, and I laugh.

Should _definitely_ be interesting indeed.

* * *

**Rangers by A Fine Frenzy.**

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. Allies are up on the blog. Find out your tribute's allies, if they have any, but please, try to keep it all incognito so it's not obvious about what tribute yours is. I'm trying to keep things secret and subtle. :)**

* * *

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**No vote can be for your tribute.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

* * *

**Same Pre-Games format as always. Same design as always. Gosh, I'm boring. Keep up with your reviews! Every review gives points to your tribute.**


	5. We Must Be Killers

**We Must Be Killers.**_  
_

_We must be killers._ _Children of the wild ones,_ _killers._ _Where we got left to run?_ _Killer._

* * *

**Astor Sheen, District One Female.**

* * *

Garnet edges his seat just a little bit closer to me, as if he's become some lost puppy that now _craves_ my attention. I send a glare his way, but he just smiles devilishly, still closing the gap between us on the table. Gloss seems to notice, his eyes watching Garnet carefully above his spoon of cereal.

"Don't you think you should be heading out, Garnet?" Gloss asks with a false smile. I know that much from him, lately. "Cashmere said she wanted to see you before you go."

"Oh, does she now?" Garnet perks up, standing up. "I'll go check on her then."

I watch as he departs the room, and it's only then does Gloss actually stop his food, crossing his arms on the table and looking at me with a watchful eye.

"Can I _help_ you?"

Gloss holds back a snigger, but leaves his face in a lopsided grin. "How are you holding up?"

"Everything is fine," I shrug. "I volunteered, so it's not like I'm not semi-prepared, is it. You should know the feelings, you were here five years ago."

"That's true, I was," Gloss leans a little closer. "But I had more training, a proper training, as well as a sister already Victor and wanting to bring me home no matter what, which gave me a little bit of an advantage."

"Now you sound like Waverly with his Finnick stories," I grin sarcastically and roll my eyes. "Broken record or what."

"This could be you in a few years, you know," Gloss tilts his head. "I heard you have a brother. Marvel, is it? He might volunteer one day and then, you won't be no better than me and Cashmere."

Protective anger suddenly flares in me, sparking my core with fire. I feel like throwing a plate of something at his head. "How do you know about Marvel?"

"I done my research when Cashmere said I was going to be mentoring you," Gloss goes back to his food, picking up his spoon. "You're from Blackdamp, the poor side of town. You come from a proper mining family, been doing it for most of your life. Then there's Marvel, your 9 year old brother. That's all I know, so don't go letting your anger out on me."

The fire ebbs away, but that protective burning still lingers. "Yeah, well I'm _proud_ of where I come from. It might be poor, but it's a community, a large family compared to the rest of One and all the rich kids. That's why I volunteered; for my community. And Marvel will never have to volunteer if I win so don't even talk like that. You don't know my life or what I go through."

"Astor, calm down," Gloss slides his hand across the table, resting it on mine for a moment. "I never meant it like that. I'm just pointing the similarities out."

I snatch my hand back. "And there is nothing similar between us. You come from one world, me another."

Gloss frowns harshly, rubbing his fingers on his temple. "There's no need to be like that, Ast."

"Whatever," I stand up, knocking my chair back. "Just do not _ever_ mention my brother or Blackdamp when you don't know him either."

With angry strides, I make my way over towards the elevator, glancing past Cashmere's room. She sits there, waves a little, just as the doors open and I slide myself in. Garnet must already be downstairs, then. The mechanical whirl keeps me calm, sedated, but all I can think about is the morning of the reaping. Marvel just fainted, like that, starving. I had to volunteer. I had no choice. I have to save my family and bring honor to Blackdamp.

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

The elevator opens, Garnet treading in with his simple smirk as per usual. He winks in Delaney's direction, before cutting straight past us and heading over to the swords once more, as if he hasn't spent enough time there already. Delaney laughs from my side, pointing at Waverly, who looks unsure as he holds up a spear.

"I stick by what I said," Delaney laughs. "You're the best choice for leader. I mean, just look at the pair. Simple and stupid Garnet, idiotic Waverly."

"And the little tart, Delaney," I nudge her, until she snaps a glare my way. "I'm _joking_. You know I don't think that."

"But you _totally_ do," Delaney smiles. "It's fine, Theo, I know your secret. We're even as can be."

She winks, flipping her hair as she walks away towards her precious knives, though her throwing skills aren't as great as some of the other girls in the Training Centre. My eyes find Lorelei, slightly hidden out of the whole picture, throwing her spear and landing it directly into the skull of her dummy. She looks cute, clueless, but she's as deadly as every other trainee. Except Waverly. He's clearly in other his head.

Soon enough, as I stand in the middle, Astor joins, flashes a cocky grin and saunters off towards a specialist station. After her, more tributes begin to pack into the center in their pairs. None look too threatening, but I don't want to count anyone out. In all retrospect, the only intimidating ones are the boys from Seven and Ten. Ten was his age and build, Seven for the fact that he's got the size and strength, but looks timid, which means he could be hiding something.

When the last tribute, the boy from Six walks in awkwardly late, I set off towards the specialist station.

"A morningstar," I say to the man behind the station. "Biggest size."

He rolls his eyes, dipping in and collecting the weapon. He hands it over the table, before smirking at something past me.

"Do you want your lasso, again?"

I turn around, just in time to see the boy from Ten smile and nod. He looks at me, gives another nod, which I reply. It's only then do I notice his district partner, the little girl, almost completely hidden by his legs and looking like a timid mouse.

"Sami, why don't you go try the knots again?" Ten asks his partner, gaining a small nod as she scurries off.

The man hands him a lasso, and I can't help but smirk.

"What's so funny?" Ten questions with a raised eyebrow, holding out his lasso. "Hey, you like _your_ weird weapons, I like mine."

"It's interesting," I shrug. "I've never seen someone use a lasso before."

"That's because they've never met me," Ten smirks. "Have fun."

"Yeah, you too."

He walks away, smug, lasso gripped firmly in his hands as he heads on over to the collection of white dummies. I follow, slightly back, knowing Astor must be out in the collection already ripping dummies to shreds with her pick-axe, no doubt enjoying every moment.

* * *

**Gage Anton, District Three Male.**

* * *

"See, a spear is _easy_ Gage," Waverly smirks, throwing it across the gap. It completely misses the target, and I fight back the laugh. "Well, I prefer a trident anyway, but all the same."

"Exactly," I force a smile. quickly looking at Addilyn from the corner of my eyes. "I completely understand."

Waverly. It was just too easy. There was always going to be two ways into the stupid Career alliance. Waverly; the idiot youngster who no doubt would befriend anyone who would take the time to talk and listen to his oh so wonderful stories about his "best friend" Finnick Odair, winner only last year. And then there was Delaney; a typical girl, easy target with a bit of winking and kissy faces. But she's a little tricky. She's a little guarded.

And so Waverly was the best option.

"You should try using a spear," Waverly offers, handing the weapon over to me. "It'd be useful."

"No thanks, I think I'll just use my brain. That's why I'm here, right? Brains for the rest of you."

"Suit yourself," Waverly shrugs. "Now, let me show you what a real person can do with a trident. Thought Finnick was good? Who do you think taught him. It was me, obvious."

Waverly walks on ahead, but before I follow, I check on Addilyn one more time. She's sat down, connecting wires and cutting pieces off with a set of pliers. The boys from Nine and Twelve hover around her, like flies to fruit, watching and quietly talking among themselves. Maybe even mocking her. That would make sense. I would, if I was watching her. Little Addilyn Helix, little rich Addilyn Helix with all her money and family, etiquette proper and poised, now thinking she's a brainiac.

Absolutely _hilarious_.

None of them even realise what they've got themselves into. I try to make it obvious to Waverly, basically stating it as a fact, but the boy just never seems to listen at all. So naive. So stupid. His death should be rather amusing. What Finnick would think when he sees his friend's little neck get chopped off.

When I look to Waverly, he gestures me over, and with eyes trained on Addilyn, I go but not without finding the other Careers first. They're my real competition, I need to know where they all are. Delaney by the knives, Theo and Astor attacking dummies, Garnet showing off his impressive sword skills and then there's Lorelei...

Who I can't find.

It's only when I arrive next to Waverly, do I see Lorelei, throwing a spear into the target with a fire burning in her eyes. She turns her head, notices me, sends a calculating glare and saunters off to collect her spear, embedded in the soft material of the target.

"She doesn't speak much," Waverly jerks his head in Lorelei's direction. "Perfectly quiet. She only talks to Mags. No-one else."

"Is that so?"

Waverly nods. "But I mean, she'll come round eventually when we get into the arena. It just takes time to cement friendships."

I hide my smirk, realising that besides naive, he's pretty stupid as well. Cementing friendships. Yeah, because everyone wants to be your friend when sooner or later, you'll have to kill them and they'll have to kill you, all for the greater good. Poor Waverly is just way in over his little, _brainless_ head.

* * *

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.**

* * *

The boy from Three heads back to Waverly, confidence practically rolling off his body like water. I wonder if any of the others have realised what a threat he is? He hasn't got the strength or the agility, no real brawn at all, but he's clever. More than clever. He's a District Three tribute, after all, you'd think people would have learned their lesson. I grip the spear, letting the metal casing caress my hand as I move back to launch it once more.

Just stay out the game and fight outwards, making your way inwards. That's my best bet.

Pick off the little tributes, the ones on their own or who get the lowest scores, then begin to strike the Careers one by one.

I have no _need_ to be in the alliance. I could cope more on my own, than with a large group.

I don't really trust any of them. Delaney is playing the "dumb blonde" card too much, Theo is quiet and quiet is dangerous, Garnet is obnoxious and well, that itself is rather annoying, Waverly is just an idiot, riding his hopes on being known as Finnick's friend and then there's Astor, who doesn't look a threat, which makes her worrying.

The spear leaves my hand, spinning and carving through the air, before it lands directly in the temple of the dummy. I smile. My training always did pay off.

I wonder what they all think of me? Lorelei, so quiet and reserved, volunteering before it even got to the girls. She looks harmless, too pretty to fight. Mousy looking, almost. None of them even _realise_ that I'm a danger to them all.

"Lorelei, Career meeting."

I spin around, knowing the voice belongs to Astor. She tilts her head, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I said, we're having a Career meeting. Theo's taken the role of leader, apparently." Astor rolls her eyes, clearly none too impressed with Theo trying to be the leader of our wonderful, dysfunctional, untrustworthy pack.

"I heard," I mumble. "Thanks."

"You're good, you know. Glad we have someone on board who can throw things," Astor jerks her head behind her, just to see Delaney throw a knife that misses the target completely, clattering to the floor. "Yeah. So, come on. _Now_."

My eyes blink, staring at her, but Astor snaps a warning glare and goes back to the little group, huddled together apart from me and Delaney.

Three moves a little closer to the group, trying his hardest to worm his way in fully. Yes. Definitely underestimating him like they are with me.

It's not always about outside appearances. No. They can most _definitely_ be deceiving.

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

"No Jack, you don't do it like that," I scold Jack, attempting to do a knot completely wrong. It sighs heavily, trying it another way. "Look, you're still doing it wrong. You go under then across, not under then over. That's just stupid."

"If you think you're better, Cameron, then you do it."

He hands me the piece of rope, which I take quickly and begin fashioning my own knot, my way, the right way. It takes a moment, but I think I have it. I show it to Jack, who scoffs and points to a flaw.

"Right there. That's not right, either. It'll come un-done _really_ easy."

He smirks, as if waiting for me to argue back over the fact that he's now criticising. What he doesn't know is, I appreciate the comments. It doesn't bother me like it does him. But that's because, in the short period of knowing him, Jack is rather the perfectionist.

"Thanks," I say with a smirk, doing the knot again until it's rather tight. "See, I didn't bite your head off when you said it."

"I didn't bite your head off."

"Yes, yes you did," I laugh. "Now you're getting defensive."

"I am _not_!"

Jack stands up angrily, almost pouting like a child. I hold back my laugh, but pass him the knot. He frowns, collecting it.

"That's how you do it." I remark.

He growls angrily, throwing the knot to the floor and stomping off towards another station, away from me, clearly. He didn't want to be allies. But after telling Cable and especially, Cordelia, they both suggested that it was for the best indeed. I basically got my own way, once again. I watch as he stops near the station where there are axes and hatchets. He studies them for a moment, before picking up a simple hatchet.

It's only then do I notice the girl with the red hair behind me, watching closely at what I'm doing. Where's her district partner, the solemn one, anyway?

"I'm Mirana," she chirps, like a little bird. "Your knot is very pretty."

I turn around, snapping a glare until I practically see the innocence swimming in her eyes. I soften, shrugging as I pick up the knot.

"It's nothing special. Just a piece of rope twisted and turned to fit what I want," I smile softly, suddenly feeling extremely guilty for the girl that looks so innocent. "Here, have a look."

She makes a squealing noise, like a little bird once more, as she takes the knotted rope and begins inspecting it closely. A large clatter rings out from across the room, and instantly, I snap in the direction expecting it to be Jack. Instead, I see the boy from Six, a collection of small, round objects at his feet, a slingshot in his hand. With wide eyes, he bends down and picks each one up separately, mumbling to himself. He then moves back to the table, putting them all down one by one again, still mumbling.

Mirana makes a little laugh, pointing at the boy. "I like him."

* * *

**Gavan Dior, District Six Male.**

* * *

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Eight objects to sling into the air. Eight. I smile to myself, picking the first one up, loading it into the holder and pulling it back. The trainer sighs for the tenth time today, I've counted, and lets go another target into the air. I let go of the holder, and my small object, number one, flies straight for the target until he narrowly misses.

But I'm getting better.

"Kid, give up and go somewhere else," the trainer complains. "You've been here for _two_ days. You should try other stuff as well."

I shake my head, counting my collection again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

"I want to try this," I load number two into the holder. "I don't like pointy things."

"Pointy things?" he frowns.

"Yes, pointy things," I nod. "They're pretty dangerous, you know. Again, please."

Another sigh, making it eleven, as he sends another target into the air. I load, pull, and watch as once again, it narrowly misses the target. Still making progress. That's all I can ask for. I turn back to my collection, knowing there is six, collecting them and handing them to the trainer.

"Can you look after these? There's six of them."

Twelvth sigh, taking my handful and placing them into his pocket. "Sure thing kid. Now get lost."

I smile, moving away from the station that's been like my home for the past two days. I don't want to go out there, with the others, playing with objects that can kill. I like my slingshot station, in the corner, where no-one bothers me and I can be left on my own. But Track says I need to find a partner, at the very least, and Karli has decided to go with the Twelve girl. I laugh a little, realising that she's with the Twelve girl and the man sighed Twelve times already this morning.

Plus, Karli's rather abrupt and crude. I don't like her that much.

I could try survival? But making a fire is dirty. It'll get me dirty. There's knots, they're safe, but again, I can get really dirty. My eyes squeeze shut, and compulsively, I start scrubbing my hands together at the mere thought of all the filth I'm going to come across. My hand instinctively goes into my pocket, retrieving my token, a small piece of cloth to clean my hands with. I make the scrubbing motion, opening my eyes and watching the other tributes, to see if anyone is watching me.

It's only then do I find the boy from One with his large, hazel eyes, glaring at me like I'm a meal.

I shrink under the stare, but quickly hide my cloth and walk away.

Making enemies is a bad thing. I haven't even done anything to him. I see a flash of bright red, before my body collides into something. I shake my body, looking at the girl from Eight in front of me, beaming wildly with her long, bright locks.

"Hi," Eight squeals. "You're funny. I like you. Can we be allies?"

She's almost excited at being an ally with me, of all people. But just over her shoulder, I can see the girl from Five, who gives a sarcastic little wave at me.

"Oh, and Cameron as well. I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Mirana," Mirana claps childishly. "But Cameron is so nice. You should join us. _Please_ say you'll join us?"

Track did say I need allies. "Okay, I-I suppose so."

* * *

**Timber Murdock, District Seven Male.**

* * *

I look at Tauria from across the distance, acting bubbly and happy with the girl from Eleven, like they're best friends who haven't seen each other for a long time. Of course, Eleven isn't responding as nicely as Tauria, but I guess that's what you get for basically jumping on someone.

The pulsing behind my head begins to throb, and I'm forced to put down my axe so that I can rub it.

This always happens when the change is going to happen. Over the years, I've learned the little sign. The constant feeling like someone is dancing on your eyeballs is the biggest giveaway. The next is when you feel like you're miles away from everyone else, when you could be right next to them. It's Mason, trying to break free once more.

I shrug away my thoughts, moving over to the further side of the centre where no-one seems to go because it only has climbing. In the shadows, I sit down, readying myself.

Ever since that fateful day, he comes and goes whenever he likes. I have no idea what he does when he's in control, or what he says or anything, nothing can be remembered. One minute I'm here, then the next minute, I'm somewhere else and Mason has gone and caused whatever chaos he can.

The pain increases fast.

"Why?" I mumble to myself in agony. "Why do you _do_ this, Mason?"

Then, slowly, I feel the pain subside and the darkness swamp me like a tidal wave.

Bright light catches my eyes, and with a dark smile, I rise, knowing that pathetic, whiny baby Timber is hidden away and not coming out for a long time.

My eyes find Tauria, just in the distance, and I already know what to do.

"Anything you can do, _I_ can do _better_." I laugh, emerging from the shadows of the training centre.

* * *

**Mirana Capulet, District Eight Female.**

* * *

"Now, we just need to get Jack involved," Cameron whispers, pointing to the boy with the curly hair playing with a hatchet. "He won't be happy, but I've given up caring for his needs. He needs this, not that."

Gavan nods with a placid face. "How do we do it?"

I giggle, pulling forth the little pocketwatch my mother gave me, just before I got reaped. Every year she'd give it to me, every year she'd take it away once my name wasn't called. I smile at the memory of her handing the watch over, hardened eyes telling me it won't be my time. It will never be my time because I'm such an innocent, sweet girl who doesn't deserve to be reaped. Tears pepper my eyes. My mother. How she used to read me stories, fairy tales about dragons and monsters and fairies. Everything was so good back then. Back when I wasn't in here, without her.

I miss her now.

Cameron looks at me, confused. "Mirana, you okay?"

I nod, kissing the pocket watch and feeling the coldness against my lips, sending a shiver through my body.

"Right, so Gavan, he doesn't know you're in our alliance. _You_ could be our advantage."

Gavan nods again. "I suppose so. I mean... C-Can't it just be us three?"

"No, it can't," Cameron glares. "We need Jack at the very least. I _refuse_ to leave him."

"You just said you guys fight all the time," Gavan replies like a little mouse, voice timid and hushed. "_You_ said you're opposites."

"That's the best thing," Cameron smiles. "Being opposites mean we counter each other's flaws. It'll be better in the long run. Now go, hurry, I really just want to go to lunch and have something decent to eat."

Gavan clambers up quickly, rushing across the room towards Jack and his pretty, silver hatchet. Cameron takes my hand, pulling me up. She smiles softly, like before, and tucks my pocketwatch back behind my top.

"Don't lose it," Cameron pats it against my clothing. "Okay? Don't lose it."

I smile. "Never. Lets eat!"

With Cameron still holding on, I skip to the canteen, ready for food. But my thoughts linger to my family, to Eight, to my life. I laugh once more, my head feeling slightly dizzy, knowing that I'll be okay. I'll see them soon.

_All_ of them.

* * *

**Fern Bracken, District Nine Female.**

* * *

The canteen is full, the smell of sweet sickly food filling the area. I force the look of disgust from my face as I walk over, collecting a tray and sliding it along. The woman hands me the food, and still hiding my disdain for the rich crap, I sit down by myself. No allies at all and that's fine by me. It's not like I want anyone, anyway. Life would be easier on my own. Besides, that would mean adding no-one extra to my incredibly long list already.

Koel waltzes in, sending his devilishly smile in every direction as his little allies follow, Eleven bringing up the rear. He makes jokes, smiles and laughs, gaining no other response than Twelve laughing obnoxiously, whilst Three and Eleven keep quiet and solemn.

"Hey Fern," Koel smirks, walking past the table. "Having _fun_?"

He sits down at the bench behind me, causing me to spin.

"I did have fun, and you?" I reply with a glare. "I know about the joke. The marmalade and jam. _Original_."

I went to bed last night, perfectly clean and content, to find the substances mashed together underneath my pillow. I even heard a shout of anger from Castor's room, clearly finding his surprise. I admit, a small, tiny part of me actually respects Koel for being what he is at his age. The rest of me, around 90%, dislikes him so much, he's shooting up my list faster and faster every hour.

Right now, that isn't good for someone going into a fight to the death.

"Like it?" Koel winks. "I thought it'd be ironic, since you done that to Castor."

"He seemed to love it."

"Oh, yes he did," I smile, watching Three, Eleven and Twelve sit down. "I see you have an alliance?"

Koel smiles again, taking a spoonful of soup as the others watch carefully. "And I also see you _don't_ have any."

"I didn't want any, you know, adding more people to my list can be a little hectic. Plus, I have my top spot saved, and all my time has to be dedicated to that alone."

I watch Koel slightly freeze under the knowledge that yes, he is on top, and yes, all my time is dedicated to taking him down and claiming my revenge properly, not just through some little prank. Twelve claps his hands loudly, making a point.

"Whilst this conversation is so much fun, honestly it's making my day, I don't want to hear about it anymore," Twelve looks at me, smiling quite sickly. "So, bye, nice to meet you, see you in the death match."

Three and Eleven share an awkward look as they all turn around, Koel still facing my way. His smirk appears clearly, but it's a little less strong as before. I send the little bug a wink, turning back to my food as the pair from Ten walks in, the boy ushering the girl along, her face looking slightly terrified and cherub-like. I quickly take another look at Koel, who only smirks once more when he notices my eyes on.

Keep smiling, Koel. You keep smiling. Just _wait_ until you see what happens.

* * *

**Chord Wickers, District Ten Male.**

* * *

"Lets sit here, Sami," I point to the bench in the corner, away from the others. "It's more isolated."

Samia follows closely, keeping near my legs and pretty much avoiding everyone's possible gaze. She's so kind and sweet, but she also happens to be rather timid and easily scared. Her little head looks straight towards the Careers, unluckily, and the boy from One snaps a dirty smile in her direction, laced with his intentions to kill her. I place my hand on her shoulder comfortingly, pushing her lightly towards the table.

"Don't worry," I soothe her. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise you that."

She nods. "But will it really? I mean, are you positive it is going to be fine, Chord?"

That catches me off-guard. I blink a few times, studying the little girl in front of me, stripped away from her family and her childhood, before swallowing down the guilt and nodding myself, slipping my hand across the table and holding her hand calmly.

"I said promise, didn't I? I'm going to do all I can, Sami."

She takes my answer for a moment, scooping up her fork and spiking her lettuce, before eating it slowly, eyes still trained on the Careers and the boy from One. I turn, once again to see his murderous grin. Then, to my surprise, the boy from Two looks in my direction, frowns slightly, and mumbles something to One that causes him to instantly shut up and look away with a sudden hatred in his eyes.

Two looks at me dead-on, giving a curt nod before looking away.

And then, right there, I decide that not only will I protect Sami from everything I possibly can, but that Two is not my enemy. And as long as he leaves Sami alone, I'll leave him alone. That's a promise.

"Thank you, Chord." Sami mumbles as she eats.

"No problem," I smile. "No problem at _all_."

* * *

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

I watch as Ashton and Koel disappear into an elevator, the doors closing behind them. I don't even understand how I've been wrapped into this alliance. I started off alone, just me and my bow, shooting and getting near perfect scores. Then, next minute I know, Koel is stalking me, Ashton is insulting me and Addilyn constantly stands awkwardly on the side, as if she seems always out of place or distant.

Maybe being in an alliance wouldn't be so bad.

_No, but it could cause a lot more trouble, heartbreak even, if you managed to get attached, Alto._

Yeah, but I won't get attached. We'll have one of those alliances that are founded solely on what we can bring to the table, not emotions.

_And you think that'll work in a place like this?_

I can only hope.

Addilyn looks at me, head tilted slightly. "Are you okay?"

I nod, offering a smile. "I'm fine, honestly."

She nods in turn, looking back to her own elevator. Addilyn is a nice enough girl. I mean, yeah, she can be awkward and quiet, but her knowledge with electronics and technology is quite astounding. You never see anything like that in Eleven. Usually, it's all poverty and brute strength. At least with Three, they have diversity.

_Yet, they rarely win._

But you could say the same thing about Eleven and Twelve.

Somewhere, a noise dings, and by the time I've snapped out my trance, Addilyn has disappeared behind the metallic doors, leaving me alone. I could do this, actually. I mean, I might be at a disadvantage, but I could win this if I really needed too. I'm not perfect, no-one is, but I'm quicker than the others, having to sprint around the groves and shoot at the predators looming around the crops. I'm quick with shooting arrows, and whilst I'm not a perfect shot, I can still hit hard. I'm quick on my feet, making decisions, acting them out. Nothing would surprise me.

I know poverty, starvation and hard work. I've lived like that, so this shouldn't be no different.

But instead of shooting predators after food, I'll be shooting tributes after my blood.

* * *

**Anastasia Burne, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

Karli looks at me as we wait for the elevators to arrive, but her partner and Ashton having disappeared a lot earlier than us both. She looks at me, smiles, then looks back to her elevator and hits the button once more.

"_I_ think we have a good chance," Karli says aloud. "If you think it, really, everyone has an equal chance at doing this thing. It could be good for us to at least be positive with it."

"Except the Careers." I point out.

"Well obviously," Karli laughs sweetly. "Everyone else who isn't a freak of nature. I mean, Ashton doesn't seem a threat, does he?"

Not exactly. He's Ashton, little weird, obnoxious Ashton that enjoys insulting everyone that comes across him, and yet, wonders why people truly don't like him.

"I _suppose_ not."

Karli grins from ear to ear. "My point. And I know for a fact that Gavan isn't a threat. Actually, come to think of it, I don't think he's all there in the head. Maybe he has a screw loose or something. I'm not sure, but it's definitely different to everyone else."

I just nod, patiently waiting for my elevator to arrive. But that doesn't stop Karli from continuing.

"Then you have Ashton's alliance, the other littles. The boy from Eleven could be trouble, but besides that, no big deal. Same with the girls from Eleven and Seven. We could take them on if we really needed to at the end of the day. And then, when everyone is gone, it'd just be you and me and that would be fair, right?"

She doesn't even understand the fact that everyone wants to go home and win. She thinks it's all just a game. And whilst it might be called the Hunger Games, lives are at stake, and that most definitely isn't a game. But once again, I nod, letting Karli continue until I hear a ding, her elevator doors opening.

Without warning, Karli runs over, hugging me tightly.

"_Thank you_ for being my partner," Karli whispers into my neck. "You don't know what it means to me."

She lets go, skips off and into her elevator, gone, leaving me confused and overwhelmed.

Only one thing is actually clear; Karli still doesn't understand that, at the end of the day, it won't be a fair fight between us. I have a family to get home too. A family that needs me, that I need to protect and help look after, a family who I couldn't bear to leave behind, and everyday, I have to hide my emotions with solitude.

Nothing fair will be about the fight.

Because no matter what, I'm going home and at some point, I'll hear Karli's cannon sound.

* * *

**We Must Be Killers by Mikky Ekko.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. **

* * *

**I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early. Getting your thoughts rather than just your votes would be much appreciated, since I work really hard on this, and want to know more than just your votes.**

* * *

**2 more Pre-Games chapters and we'll be in the arena. I've only decided on a definite two bloodbaths already... The rest is up to you and your voting. I want to thank The Light Holder, since I didn't have a song for this and I kinda stole it from their SYOT, which you should totally read!**

**Again, some POV's will be shorter than others, depending on what I want to give away and that.**


	6. Bulletproof

**Bulletproof.**_  
_

_And life's too short for me to stop, oh baby, your time is running out._

* * *

**Garnet Stone, District One Male.**

* * *

"_Come_ _on_ Astor, the excitement awaits us," I shout, wondering where the fuck she even is. Today, we get to do our private sessions. Today, I can show everyone why them even bouncing off of the plates is pointless. Might as well do me a favor and kill themselves by stepping off early, just so I can have a few fireworks before I slaughter them all. "Move it!"

Astor bounds from around the corner, face turned into a scowl. "Who do you think you are, telling _me_ what to do?"

I force a seductive smile. "I'm Garnet Stone, baby."

She rolls her eyes as she presses the button for the elevator. I hear footsteps, and looking over my shoulder, I can see Gloss and Cashmere watching us with intense eyes. I throw a wink Cashmere's way, just as the mechanical doors slide open. Astor steps in, silent.

"Wish me luck." I beckon over my shoulders, watching Cashmere's face turn into disgust.

Thinking she's better than me, just because she's won already and I'm yet to receive my crown. But it's only a matter of time. Not long now. After today, one more day, and then, into the arena we go. Our wonderful alliance, one by one they will all fall, and I'll come out on top. Saying it was written in the stars would be too cliche, but it's probably the closest to the truth. And deep down, they know I'm the watch.

It'll be all too perfect.

I can already imagine the crowd chanting my name as I arrive back in the Capitol, my new home. The girls, calling my name, begging me to spend the night with them.

"Thinking?" Astor asks.

"Only ever of you." I smirk.

Astor scoffs, rolling her eyes once more. "Yeah, sure, _whatever_. Maybe when you think, you should try a face that looks less pained and more thoughtful. You looked like you needed the toilet."

I decide not to respond, just because there's no point. I know Astor wants me. The way she speaks, moves, talks to me are all signs that she wants me. Gloss is just in the way, acting like some annoying, protective older brother when he already has a sister of his own. Plus, it's not like I would ever be properly mean to her. Astor might be rough and tumble, but that's fine, that is how I like my girls.

That's why Cashmere and Astor work for me, and Delaney and Lorelei don't.

The doors open, and quickly, the fun begins. Astor turns as she walks out, flipping her red hair.

"I want to say good luck, but luck is for losers... So _good luck_."

I laugh, just as Astor walks away.

* * *

**Delaney Robb, District Two Female.**

* * *

"Theo, _stop_ tapping your foot!" I moan, slapping the boy's knee. I'm already nervous as it is, I don't need him making it any worse.

"Shut up." Theo bites back.

Waverly chuckles from the other side of the table, but I choose to ignore the little brat. His death will be soon, that's a certain. Why would any keep Finnick's friend in? He's no Finnick. Saving him would basically be saying that it's okay to replace the original, there's more like them. Lorelei doesn't bothered one bit, swirling her finger along the metal table.

"Theo Cassius!"

My head snaps up, just as Theo rises, jaw clenched. He gives a curt nod to everyone else, disappearing out of the canteen area.

He'll be okay. Course he'll be okay. Theo's only been training for two years, but everyone knows he's better than the rest of the Training Centre males. That's why he got chosen this year. A lot of potential, a lot of skills, but Theo was chosen for many reasons that he has over the others. Yet, I'm nervous, and I've been training since the tender age of 7. I was _never_ able to actually perfect my knife throwing skills.

Tibius never trained me for them. He said that it was too obvious for the Two females to be able to throw knives with such deadly accuracy. So, I was just trained to be able to cut an opponent, limb by limb, close up.

But will that be good enough? Distance weapons are always better in an arena where getting close could be a fatal mistake.

"Don't be scared, Delaney."

I look at Waverly, seeing his confident smile and piercing eyes. Sometimes, it makes me sick. Worse of all, if it's suppose to cheer me up, it's had the opposite effect.

"I'm not scared," I sneer, looking at him more harshly. "I've been trained for this, little boy. Why would I be scared?"

Waverly shrugs, not doubt wishing he never said anything at all. From the corner of my eye, I can see Lorelei hiding a smirk, which makes me almost positive that poor little Waverly is completely out of place in this alliance, competition, even.

"I'm perfectly fine for this. Absolutely ready," I lean just a little bit closer. "Are you ready? Because lets face it, Wave, being Finnick's friend isn't exactly going to stop a knife from piercing into an organ, filling your body with blood until you drown from the inside out."

I watch his body tense and tighten, fear swimming in his eyes.

"Delaney Robb!"

"That's my cue," I stand up, still beaming from ear to ear at Waverly. "But don't worry. I'm _sure_ you'll be fine."

* * *

**Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.**

* * *

"Addilyn Helix!"

Fear is so quick to take control, I doubt I could even move. Alto and Koel look at me, both waiting for me to actually go, but something inside me just doesn't want to play along. What would I even show? Would a high score be good, or bad?

"That _means_ you," Ashton rolls his eyes from the side of me. "You have to go when they call your name, Addilyn. Otherwise, what's the point in a system?"

"Ashton, not now." Alto frowns.

Ashton shrugs. "Just saying. It's kinda obvious."

Soon enough, Alto staring at me with as much sympathy as he could probably muster, I rise, walking out the canteen. I make sure to straighten my back, that my hair sits nicely in front of me on either side, that I look proper, poised and serious. Back at home, I would have gotten incredibly scorned for not doing it. The person gestures for me to go through the door, and with a heavy sigh, I push it open and enter.

The Gamemakers sit there, watching intently, though a few seem too occupied with their beverages.

"Addilyn Helix, District Three." I say politely, standing straight in my spot.

The Head Gamemaker nods. Slowly, I move over towards the fire-making station, collecting some sticks and a box of matches. Within seconds, I've created a fire, something I quickly picked up from Alto after he showed me. I look to them, one even taking some notes on my performance.

_Now_ the pressure is on.

Taking another encouraging breath, I go towards my wires, collecting the right amount for the trap.

I fold and twist, making sure they match and work properly. Satisfied, I collect the last piece. It's now or never. Make or break. It'll either work or it won't. I haven't really tried it within the training portions. Wiress told me, cryptically, that it would be better to hide it all. But she coached me, with some help from Beetee, since Gage has already made it clear he's not going to listen to Beetee at all.

I connect the last piece, hooking it up to a small, electrical generator that the trainer provided me at request from Beetee.

A small crackle, a spark, and then, I hear the electrical buzz as it flows around the wires, igniting. A few impressed hums ring out from the Gamemakers' lounge, and walking over to grab a leaf from the fire-making station, I throw it on to hear the loud pop as it crumples to a blackened mess.

From the background, I hear a slow motion of clapping, I leave the room, hiding my ecstatic smile.

But one little thought hammers away on my brain. That's all good. But what if the arena has _no_ electricity?

* * *

**Waverly Pond, District Four Male.**

* * *

"Waverly Pond, friend of Finnick!" I cheer, not even waiting for the Gamemakers to dismiss me.

When I win, they'll have to show me respect, because I'll be higher than them. I dash on over towards the spears. Finnick said variety, show them something you're decent at, but that no-one has seen. Only Gage has, and I trust him enough to not turn on me at all. If anything, it'll be one of the non-Careers. Pure jealousy over the fact that they got chosen, whilst I volunteered because I actually have the balls to back it all up.

And I have to admit, Delaney's words did shake me up. I'm not playing up to being Finnick's friend, I'm trying to make a point that I'm as much of a competition as every other person in here. Before Finnick, District Four was beginning to look like a joke with the small amount of Careers actually winning.

I slide my hand around the spear, lining the metal arrowhead with target. My eyes close, my breathing gets hard, and if as much power as I can muster, I throw it.

My heart sinks a little when instead of hearing the spear embedding itself into the soft material of the training dummy, it clangs against the floor, metal hitting concrete. When I hear the soft murmurs of the Gamemakers talking about my failure, I know I've messed up on a perfect score.

But that's okay. Rarely does anyone get a perfect 12. Finnick didn't, and he still won.

Opening my eyes, I let the burning fire sink in as I cross towards the tridents. I pluck one from the stand, spin around and send it flying.

It doesn't land directly on the spot, but it spears both the legs, the middle point landing between the legs. In the arena, that would disable anyone, completely taking away their legs and any form of movement. That's good enough, and to the Gamemakers, it looks like I exactly planned to do that.

"Thank you."

I look up, sighing, realising all my time must have been spent on throwing my spear. With failure sinking down on my heart, I jump in the elevator, going back up to Finnick, who will definitely not be happy with it.

When the doors open, Finnick bounces into view, face clear with worry.

"Did you do okay? Do what I suggested?"

I put my hands up to get him to back off. Mags, sitting down on the couch, smiles weakly.

"I did okay... And yeah, I done what you said. I showed them a _ton_ of stuff, from fighting to survivals. Everything went _perfectly_," I lie, feeling guilty as I see Finnick warm a little, knowing I done the best I could. "Only problem is, I'm not sure if they were actually watching."

"Trust me, they were," Finnick grins. "They do that all the time, to make you work harder for a big score. Done the same to me last year."

"That's good to know. How do you think Lorelei will do?" I say, trying to change the subject, since this doesn't make me feel any better.

Finnick shrugs, walking back to the couch. "Probably really good. But don't worry. If she's a major threat, the other Careers will take her down early."

Mags gives a disapproving look as Finnick sits down, bending over to grab a small cube of sugar on a plate, plopping it into his mouth. He turns around to offer me one, but I decline. There's too much on my mind.

* * *

**Jack Ampere, District Five Male.**

* * *

The elevator doors open, revealing Cameron, looking a little cocky but also a little flustered. She notices me, grunts something in response and walks away to her bedroom. Cable looks confused, standing up until Cordelia places her hand on his knee.

"Let Jack go," Cordelia says softly in her timid, mousy voice. "I think it would be _best_ for the pair of them."

Cable looks uncertain, but nods carefully.

I rise, quickly walking to Cameron's bedroom. I give the door a soft knock, hearing the bustle as Cameron appears at the door, looking more flustered than cocky.

"What?"

I suddenly feel exposed since her voice is laced with annoyance. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Cameron exclaims. "I'm _not_ okay, I'm really not. I thought I'd try some throwing knives, just for the fun of it. Do you know what? I suck at it, and no matter how much the trainer tried to help me, it didn't matter. So, being reckless, I thought I'd try it in my private session, to find out, yeah, I _still_ suck at it."

It takes a moment for me to be able to reply, since I'm used to Cameron's anger, but never self-pity. I didn't think it would suit her all that well.

"Did you try _other_ stuff?" I manage to get out.

She glares for a moment, before sighing heavily. "Not really. I showed that I can try a knot, properly, then went straight for the freaking knives. Why, what did you do?"

"I used a hatchet," I admit, though from her face, she knew. "Thought I might need to back myself up with a weapon."

"Yeah, good idea," Cameron scoffs. "Does this mean, now after my wonderful show of complete failure, that you'll join me, Gavan and Mirana in an alliance?"

Then, it hits me. She doesn't do self-pity because it isn't like her. That was her game, all along. Her way to snare me and reel me in, using my guilt to join the alliance. And, annoyingly, it's pretty much worked.

"Fine," I nod. "But only until I _want_ to leave."

"That's fine by me, Jacky boy," Cameron smirks. "The more, the better. See you this evening, I need a shower, I feel a bit sweaty."

And with a wink, Cameron closes the door, knowing full well she played a game with me and won. The only little thought that pesters me is... Did she do bad then or was that all part of the game?

* * *

**Karli Hudson, District Six Female.**

* * *

I watch as Gavan cuts his food, once again with a spoon, looking seriously at the glass of water placed in front of him by an Avox. He hasn't mentioned a word since I got back from the private sessions. I talked to Fabriola and Polo about my training, Polo silently mocking me with her eyes, clearly not interested since she's barely brought any tributes home since herself. Track was the only one to stand out, and even then, Track was good enough to be without a mentor.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Fabriola asks from the couch, directed at Gavan. "You look _really_ down. Did something happen?"

I hear Polo's scoff in the background, but Gavan just sighs pretty heavily. He places his spoon down, crossing his arms on the table like he's deep in thought. He can be quite dramatic at times. I've learned that much from him and his silence towards us all, except Fabriola, who he's connected with pretty well.

"I don't think they were impressed with my slingshot," Gavan finally admits. "They weren't even paying attention."

I look to Track, just in time to see him nod, before Polo breaks out in a bitter laugh. "Are you kidding me? A slingshot?"

Gavan suddenly gets a bit defensive. "I didn't want to use any of the sharp objects!"

"That's why I doubt you're going to survive," Polo rolls her eyes. "Always the same with Six tributes. Complete and utter morons."

"Don't say that." Fabriola scowls.

Polo looks at her smugly. "But I'm completely true. Don't deny it, Fabriola, even you can't be that stupid to understand that they're all crazy, idiotic and utterly incompetent."

"Doesn't say a lot about you, since _you_ were one of them many years ago," Fabriola counters back. "_I_ have faith in the pair of them."

"Only you then."

All the time, Gavan sits there stony, looking down at his food as if he can't believe they would even question his lack of mental stability. Maybe I should say something? Remind Gavan that it's okay if he's crazy, that girl from Eight isn't much better, in fact, she's probably worse.

"Gavan?"

He looks to me, and it's then, do I notice the red swelling from where he looks about to cry.

"_What_?"

I take a moment to think of what to say. Anything to sound comforting. "It's going to be okay. I won't do much better."

He takes it with a nod, but doesn't look too convinced. "Thanks."

Gavan picks up his spoon, cutting another chunk of meat with it awkwardly. Fabriola and Polo continue to battle back and forth over the madness Six tributes seem to provide to the Games, whilst Track becomes absorbed in the table, eyes glued to it.

Yet, there's me, sitting here, scared out of my mind without a _single_ person to care at all.

* * *

**Tauria Copin, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"It's coming on!" Olivander sings, pointing towards the screen before flicking a piece of his aubergine hair out of his eyes.

Blight and Mona keep their eyes locked on the screen, Timber sat in the corner, playing with his thumbs shyly as if expecting to be a complete failure. Just before he left, I watched him, and he didn't look too good. He kept rubbing his temple, squinting his eyes, looking like he might pass out. Then, he faced me and grinned that dark, murderous grin of his.

"Just remember, what ever happens, points do-"

"_Shush_!" Olivander cuts Mona off. "It's about to start! Don't ruin it!"

She sits back into her chair, looking at me and giving a soft, sedated smile and a worrying one to Timber.

Within seconds, Caesar Flickerman's pale face and bright, dashing pink hair appears, looking radiant as ever. He makes a few jokes, before he begins.

The first picture is the boy from One, and underneath in bright red is a large 10. It doesn't surprise me. He looked to be enjoying himself far too much with his sword and taunting little children. His partner appears, the one who likes to play with pick axes, with an 8 underneath her picture.

"Never expected that from her," Blight admits. "She didn't look like a proper Career."

I focus back on the television, the boy from Two appearing with his 10 and his partner, the beautiful blonde, gaining a 9.

What gets me, though, is the little girl from Three, who manages to pull a 7 despite not showing anything incredible during training.

"Obviously hid it." Blight comments, seeing my face and no doubt reading me like a book.

Her partner gets himself a 4, not something too great.

Four appears, with the boy, friend of famous Finnick, taking away a surprising 6 and the girl, Lorelei I've learned, grabbing a 9 to match the girl from Two. The Fives grab a matching 6 for the pair of them, whilst the boy from Six only manages to take away a 5.

Getting closer and closer.

I watch Timber shift, sitting up straight and looking suddenly so proud and bold, confident for his picture to come. The girl from Six only takes away a 5 herself, another matching pair like Five, before I see Timber's stony face appear.

It takes a moment, to me a lifetime, before an impressive 8 dances underneath his picture. He looks at me, beaming with wicked delight, just as my picture comes up. Olivander remarks how pretty I look, and that pixie cuts could still be all the rage if I win.

Then, underneath, a 7 pops up.

* * *

**Stitch Hill, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I wait patiently as the rest of the tributes get their scores, proving whether or not they're actually worth the fight. The Careers, minus Four, actually look threatening, gaining their high scores. But no 11's yet. I doubt if the Careers can't pull that, then there is no way that anyone below could. Weaker districts tend to pull weaker numbers, though, the male from Seven getting an 8 was kind of shocking. Every time I've looked at him, he looks mousy and scared.

Obviously he's been hiding something. Like the girl from Three, who also has proven she's a tricky one.

More to watch out for.

I look to Mirana, seeing her shift from nerves, no doubt scared or even terrified she messed up. Her private session mustn't have been that great. She came up, tears overlapping her eyes, shaking almost terribly. She rushed to her room, Cecelia in tow, whilst I ended up just staring at Woof as he crouched over the table, scratching the wood table like it's some sort of creature.

Then, I see my picture appear.

Underneath, I pull a 7.

But no-one pays attention. Woof is too busy with his table, Cecelia is too busy watching Mirana's shaking form, and all the while, Fervis is indulging herself in a glass of wine. Useless. All of them. They're here to help me out, make me feel the slightest bit confident, and yet, they're either _too_ absorbed in themselves, their slowly dying mind or the crazy girl with bright red hair.

When Mirana sees her picture, she squeaks, much like a little toddler.

It only worsens when Caesar announces she collected only a 4.

Tears burst from her eyes, like water from a bank, and she's up and out the room within seconds, ruby hair chasing the fleeing body.

"Oh dear," Fervis mumbles into her glass, but eyes looking worried at the direction she escaped too. "Someone should go check on her, see if she's okay."

"Nothing I say makes any difference," Cecelia admits. "Why don't _you_ go and try, Stitch?"

I fight back the disgust creeping on my face, standing and leaving without saying a word. It's not hard to find her. Her cries are high-pitched and squealing, like a baby pig or like she's inhaled too much helium. She's crouched next to her bed, hair spilling onto the sheet

"It's okay," I manage to muster up in as nice voice as possible. "Sometimes people get low scores."

My attempt at making her feel better doesn't work, seeing as she just bursts into even larger tears.

In the end, after standing there awkwardly for around two minutes, I give up, going back to Cecelia and shaking my head. She sighs, rubbing her temples carefully, whilst Fervis pours herself another glass of sweet liquid. Once again, no-one makes a comment about my score, my feelings about this, nothing. I might as well be invisible as long as the crazy, deluded girl is around. But not for long.

One winner. Twenty-three dead.

And Mirana _isn't_ coming back at all, whether I do or not.

* * *

**Koel Spelt, District Nine Male.**

* * *

"You're such a _brat_," Castor glares from across the couch. "I don't see _why_ I should be subjected to your torment."

I fight the smirk painting on my face, watching Fern slide along the couch just a tad more, looking more and more intrusive and terrifying. Neither Auckland or Victory enter the potential argument, both staying well out the way and just watching from the sidelines.

"You should be subjected to my torment because you are an imbecile," Fern mocks him. "And, technically, you are the enemy."

"Since when did I become the enemy?" Castor counters, rolling his eyes.

Fern edges closer once more. "You're part of the Capitol. Their little sheep, coming out here and bleating for us, telling us what to do and how to act and trying to change us. Worse of all, you personally think you're better than us. Maybe Koel, but not me."

My eyes snap to her glare at her, saying I'm pretty much worthless.

Castor scoffs a little. "Wonderful observational skills, Fern. The slight flaw in your argument is that you are lower than me. I'm a Capitolite, the largest of the large, whilst you are a simple-minded, _stupid_ girl."

I feel like maybe I should say something. But defend who? I don't particularly like Castor, because Fern is right, he does act better than us and he definitely is trying to make us something we're not, compared to Auckland and Victory, who are preparing us. But Castor is also right, reminding Fern that she is nothing but a girl, not some super powered freedom warrior.

Either way, being in the arena away from the pair of them might be better than this.

"Stop it," Auckland cuts in. "The scores are coming up."

I appear first, surprisingly, and I can't help but fight back a laugh as I look at my picture, my face contorted for a joke. It should easily highlight my personality, and somehow, I manage to get a 4, much like Three and Eight. It doesn't surprise me. I didn't actually make much effort, besides stabbing a dummy a few times and then basically skipping from station to station, doing what I could pretty lamely.

"Doesn't surprise me," Castor rolls his eyes again, more dramatically than before. "Nine is pretty useless. Wait for it. An all time low when we see little miss demon's score."

Except, his face doesn't break out into a giant grin he's prepared to show off. Instead, once you take in Fern's dark looks, you notice the 6 underneath. Not the greatest, but definitely more than what Castor actually ever expected her to pull.

"Now whose laughing, _sheep_." Fern smirks wickedly.

Auckland and Victory share confused looks, whilst Fern snaps her head to me. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes say everything. The dark orbs glistens with murder, hateful words, cockiness and most of all, the image of my death at her hands.

That wouldn't surprise me one bit.

* * *

**Samia Carson, District Ten Female.**

* * *

Once Nine disappears off the television, I wait patiently for us to come up. There's an intermission after every three districts, trying to build up the tension, though by this point, people don't care too much on what the lower districts get. Ten, Eleven and Twelve are the poorest of the poor, scrawny kids destined for bloodbath. This year shouldn't be any different, though, some do make it through luckily.

Chord should be one of them. Maybe even the girl from Eleven.

The rest of us? Dead the moment the escort plucked our name from the reaping bowl.

"Don't worry, Sami, I keep telling you I'm here for you," Chord sighs, looking at me with sympathy. "No matter what, I'm _going_ to get you out there and I'm _going_ to make sure you stay alive."

I shake my head. "I-I'm only d-dragging you down..."

His eyes spark into confusion, a tiny bit of angry, but most of all, sadness. "Don't say that. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't believe it myself."

Just then, Buttercup and Lucky return, discussing between themselves about the other tributes. Apparently, they're not surprised about the Careers' scores, though the Four boy did get lower than normal. And, word of warning to us, they told us to watch out for the Three pair, the Seven pair and then the boy from Eight. Buttercup believes none of them would get that high unless they had something up their sleeves. For the Three boy, well, he's with the Careers, and they wouldn't have accepted him unless he could provide them something.

Soon enough, the anthem returns and Caesar comes back up, cheerful as he gets ready.

Chord's picture appears, and it's then, do I notice he's got rather defined looks, toned and toughened by working on a farm and constantly looking after animals. A farmer's work starts early, ends late, never resting. There's no surprise when he manages to grasp himself an 8.

Lucky pats him on the back with a grin, whilst Buttercup smiles.

"Well done." I manage to squeak out, Chord laying his hand over mine reassuringly.

"Don't count yourself out yet."

Then, I see me, but my eyes are trained on the 3 below.

After that, almost everything is a blur as I bite back the tears as much as possible. The boy from Eleven claws himself 7, again, no surprise with his archery skills, whilst his district partner claims a 6 for herself. Twelve's scores are nothing impressive, Ashton claiming a 3 like myself whilst the girl gets a 5. Once again, the lower districts provide nothing interesting.

"As I mentioned, don't worry." Chord assures me.

I just nod, but deep down, I _know_ for a fact I'll only drag him down. He's putting his life on the line for me, when he's more than capable of actually winning himself.

* * *

**Zaira Havlin, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

I managed to get myself a 6. That's fine by me. Tauria got one point higher, and that's fine by me. Everything is fine by me. I'm not going to argue against any of it, because at the end of the day, it's more about what you do inside the arena rather than your image on the outside.

Seeder and Chaff were cheerful, though I'm almost sure that Chaff was no doubt tipsy already.

At one point, Ginger got defensive about the points. She started to blame Seeder and Chaff on our scores, saying they didn't do their job properly. That we failed because of them, we're not helping her image out at all. Then Seeder got defensive, saying Ginger doesn't care about anyone but herself.

The thought of the shouting as it escalated sends a shiver down my spine. The words, the volume, it was all _too_ much.

I quickly pour a glass of water, excusing myself from the whole tense atmosphere. Alto hasn't said much, but Chaff constantly slurs that he's brilliant, he's a sure winner and that compared to the rest of the tributes, he has one of the best shots.

But the thought of the arguing dampers my mood and original happiness from my score.

As I leave, I can see Ginger's burning eyes stuck to Seeder.

I down the water, flick the remote to show me a starry sky, and then curl up in bed, staring at the changing wall. The black canvas, peppered with bright, white dots. Back in Eleven, the sky is beautiful. I don't know about other districts, but during night, we rarely get clouds or rain. It always happens in the daytime, and even then, it's rare. Mom and Dad would have to water the orchard we own all by themselves, a few small twelve years old helping out to earn a little extra money.

We're not rich, but we earn just a tad more than most families.

But the pressure weighed on them. They would argue. Shout, curse, never physically but always verbal. Sometimes, it would last for hours on end. Drag onto the next day, the air thick with tension and hatred.

My Mom is quite the hot-head, whilst my Dad is her polar opposite.

Ginger and Seeder aren't much different, that's why I seem to be taking their argument hard. It didn't effect me. It reminded me of home, a place I might never see again.

Bad times or good, I'd do _anything_ to go back.

But that'll never happen.

* * *

**Ashton Myers, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"One more day," Pashmina sings on the couch. "Then the fun will really begin. I hope you two can actually live up to the hype I've been sharing to all my friends, otherwise, you _know_ it will look bad on me and we _can't_ have that."

"Of course we can't." I smirk.

Her head snaps towards me, eyes on fire. "I didn't ask for your input, Ashton."

"That's because you're selfish, clearly."

"It's because I have no _need_ for your input," Pashmina jerks her finger at me. "So zip your lips."

"There you go again, trying to stab my eyes out with the nails," I wave her away. "Go get them cut. You're starting to look like you don't have any hygiene. Dirty, if you ask me."

"Compared to the way you peasants live in Twelve."

"Better than the way you airheads lives in the Capitol," I smile sarcastically. "At least girls in my district tend to look like girls, not _freaks_."

Pashmina's face looks shocked, probably not able to comprehend my words. So, I cross my arms, looking to Anastasia.

"Ana, how about _you_ show her how to look like one of the female species?"

Haymitch snorts from the other side of the room, too absorbed in a bottle of whiskey and a glass, constantly topped up by an Avox with ice cubes. However, Pashmina is definitely not impressed by me. She had this coming at some point. After all, if she had just left me alone right near the beginning and stopped pestering me and bugged Anastasia instead, we wouldn't have this problem at all.

Yes. It's _all_ her fault, clearly.

* * *

**Bulletproof by La Roux.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. Training Scores are on the blog, just for reference.**

* * *

**I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early. Getting your thoughts rather than just your votes would be much appreciated, since I work really hard on this, and want to know more than just your votes.**

* * *

**ONE MORE CHAPTER! **

**Check out Child's Play for me? Whose excited for the Games? I have a question for you all, even though it's far too early... Who do you desperately want to survive the bloodbath? Except your tribute, obviously...**


	7. Come Away To The Water

**Come Away To The Water.**_  
_

_Come away little light come away to the darkness, i__n the shade of the night we will come looking for you._

* * *

**Astor Sheen, District One Female.**

* * *

The dress itself seems almost foreign to me. My hands idly trace up and down the soft material, burning a fiery red, perfect to match my hair like my stylist mentioned. I'm not used to such pretty, astounding things. Back in Blackdamp, the almost customary tradition is to pass clothes to other families, since poverty is pretty normal. All my skirts, blouses, shirts. Sometimes, when I'm walking the streets, I'll see a girl wearing something of mine, and deep down, in makes me smile.

"You know, you look rather yummy in that dress."

I turn around to look at Garnet, not exactly taking him seriously. "Yummy? What are you, a toddler wanting food?"

His jaw clenches, but he says nothing. "I thought it would sound rather _seductive_. See, I can use better words."

"Well done to you."

Suddenly, I feel the pressure against my side, knowing Garnet is practically groping me. Anger burns inside, much like Gloss questioning about Marvel, and I push his hand away rather angrily. He holds his hands in mock defense, winks, and stalks away. Down the line, I watch him stop by Lorelei and whisper something, and not very subtle, she rolls her eyes.

I wonder if Caesar will ask about Blackdamp, if he _even_ knows?

A part of me wants him too. I feel pride, honor, when it comes to Blackdamp and the culture. They're so used to seeing pretty girls, rich boys, kids from the higher society of One and what they can bring to the table, if anything else but looks. I managed to pull a decent number for a Career, despite the only training being right here in the Capitol, looks aren't important to me and, well, I'm doing this for Blackdamp, so it's only natural I try and bring it up.

And of course, doing this for Marvel so he would never volunteer in the future.

I feel a little sick, because really, I know he would do it if he wanted too and nothing I do would _really_ change that. Me winning might only encourage him. We've never seen eye to eye, I'm proud of Blackdamp whereas he is almost _appalled _by our traditions and blue-collared living.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when a man appears, silently pushing me towards the stage. I stumble a little, not used to such fancy shoes, and make my way out into the bright light, flashing cameras and cheering of the multi-coloured crowd. The sickness is soon replaced by distaste for the Capitol and what they are.

Caesar smiles at me, gesturing for me to sit down, and politely, I do.

"Astor Sheen," Caesar smiles, his hair this year in a yellow, golden hue. "Now, over the years, we've had _many_ striking girls, haven't we folks?"

The crowd cheers in response.

"But this year, well, I must say that we've topped ourselves," Caesar's smile is kind, soft, and the crowd simply roar. "Clearly Cashmere has been showing you the ropes."

I fight back the blush, hands running through my dress. "Actually, Cashmere is Garnet's mentor. Gloss is mentoring me."

"Ah, the other half of the wonderful Arvoy family," Caesar leans a little closer. "How is Gloss treating you?"

The mention of Gloss' name, spoken like that, sends a shiver down my spine. This time, the blush is unavoidable. "H-He's doing great."

Somewhere in the audience, I can imagine Gloss smirking with pride. And somehow, that settles me at ease.

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

I watch as Delaney swishes her hips, shaking every single body part that would jiggle attractively, as she walks on over to Caesar. You can partially see his smile become slightly predatory, but Delaney seems to have the same effect on every single man she's ever encountered.

Tibius, her personal trainer at the Training Centre, was her _first_ notch on the bedpost, so to speak.

Since then, she made it her mission to sleep and pull every single guy within the whole Training Centre, except me. Her charms, lustful eyes and cunning smile did nothing to me, and in a twisted sense, was how our odd friendship was formed. Before then, she had no friends, just conquests begging for more. Me? I had plenty, more than you could count, but Delaney came and stuck and took the coveted role of best friend.

The day I was told I was the chosen volunteer for the 66th games, Delaney was the first I told.

My heart even sunk a little when she said she was the chosen female.

Kind of like star-crossed lovers, except friends, and when you're 18 and at the Training Centre in Two, you have no choice to regret the idea. You get told you're the volunteer, you swallow it down and accept that fate.

If you don't, well, death would seem like an easy option.

I come around, just in time to see Caesar, awful close to Delaney, ask something that seems almost too juicy to miss.

"What is your relationship with your district partner, Theo?" Caesar's face paints a smile.

She blushes a tad, smiling beautifully back and forth between the audience and Caesar himself. "Well... There isn't _anything_ between me and Theo. We grew up together, so to speak, and he's more like a brother to me."

Caesar places a hand to his breast pocket, no doubt finding his heart. "That is touching. And tragic. Did you both _plan_ on volunteering together?"

It's almost like he's oblivious to the Training Centre and trainees. Surely, a bunch of kids in leather jackets walking out together should look suspicious. Yet, over the years, they've turned their blind eye and ignored what we do. Delaney beams at Caesar, but then looks to the crowd of cheering idiots.

"That was the plan. If you thought the last few years were good, you are going to be blinded by what this year will provide. And, guaranteed, me and Theo will provide the blood lusting fun."

Again, her smile appears and it just seems to send everyone into a frenzy. Slowly, after a buzzer goes off, Delaney saunters from the stage, still swishing her hips and constantly flipping her hair, her dress like a second skin to her, considering how tight it really is.

She stops by me and winks. "Good luck. Remember, joint angle makes it more fun."

* * *

**Gage Anton, District Three Male.**

* * *

"Gage... Firstly, your reaping was probably one of the most... Curious, we've ever seen come from District Three," Caesar smirks, looking to the crowd. "What was going through your mind right there and then?"

I can't stop the smile forming on my face, and slowly, I turn to the idiotic audience, gawking at me with bird-like faces. "What can I say? I honestly believe I have the potential to walk away the Victor. You should never count yourself out before the fun has even started."

"That's very true," Caesar nods knowingly. "I like your attitude towards it. Are we going to get a sneak into your strategy?"

My strategy is rather simple; get into the Careers, already accomplished, stay with them, earn their trust and let them pick each and every tribute off for me. Then, along the way, I'll be in their ears, whispering and playing them against each other, until bit by bit, they destroy themselves from the inside out. Wait to night, sleep, slice their throat and claim victory for myself. It's rather simple, and with everything moving fluently, it shall work properly.

And without even knowing, Waverly is helping me out every step of the way.

"_Afraid_ not," I smile toothily at the audience. "Otherwise, I'd be an open book!"

Caesar claps. "Again, very true. Very wise for your age, Gage."

"I grew up like this," I admit with a smile. "To always pursue knowledge, learning more and more, because sometime in the future, you'll come to a point where you'll need that information to pass. Kinda drilled into my brain."

The audience laps this up, like a cat drinking milk, each clapping and almost looking teary-eyed at the possibility of such a young, bright boy, stepping into the world like this. Addilyn will never be able to compare to me.

After a while, Caesar questions me on my family and life, and politely but with a hidden edge, I answer each one, until the buzzer sounds and I walk off stage. I watch Addilyn freeze, body tense as the arrival of her interview has come. Her dress, short and pixie-like with a flare, fanning out from her knees, shows her pale legs, almost blending to the bright silver material. The escort comes to take her up, and from the screen, I watch her interview begin.

"Addilyn Helix, well firstly, congratulations on your impressive score." Caesar smiles.

Addilyn smiles softly, her voice timid. "Thank you."

"Can you tell us what you actually did to gain that great, unexpected score?"

She looks a little scared, eyes wide and strained, but she shakes her head. "I'm not allowed too."

"Such a _shame_!" Caesar plays it up to the crowd, getting them to groan in response. "But, we can expect great things from you, correct?"

I smile forms on my face. Yes, you can expect great things from her. And it shall start and end with her creative death at the Careers, as they peel the blood from her veins and the life from her body.

* * *

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.**

* * *

"So, mysterious Lorelei," Caesar smiles wickedly. "Because, that's what you've been dubbed by the audience. Nobody knows what to work of you yet."

I smile at that. That has been my angle all along. To throw them all off their game by a female Career whose silence is her biggest weapon.

"Well, if it works for them." I shrug playfully, gaining a laugh.

Caesar even joins in, until he leans closer, letting the golden hue of his hair fall near my eyes.

"Do you feel like telling us why you're so mysterious?"

My eyebrows raise, but I keep my smile turning smirk in tact. "That I can't, I'm afraid. All part of my master plan."

"Master plan?" Caesar gasps. "You _must_ share this with us."

I tap my nose with my finger, winking at him. "As I said, it's all a secret. You'll all see tomorrow, that much is certain. The Games will unfold and so will Lorelei Avalon."

He accepts my answer, and when he goes to ask another question, the buzzer rings. He spent so much time dancing around my mysteriousness and evasive attitude, he forget to get down to the nitty gritty of it all. Mags told me to play with my strengths, and being allusive has always been the main strength of mine. I stand up, raise the hem of my dress to bow appropriately, and walk over stage.

I meet Waverly's gawking eyes, and offer a smile.

"Good luck," I simply say.

He nods quickly in response. "Y-You did great."

"Be like _Finnick_." I grin, knowing that should either throw him off or encourage. Either way, I don't care too much.

He nods hurriedly again, being led up the steps. I turn around to see Garnet, smirking at me, and it takes a lot to not slap him. Telling me I looked fine in this dress isn't something you should say to a girl. Then again, I'm pretty sure Garnet doesn't know about how to act properly or like a normal human being.

Either way, like with Waverly, I don't care.

I might be a part of this alliance, but that doesn't mean I'm going to play fair. Or even play at all.

Because Lorelei Avalon will unravel in the arena. And people will either like me or hate me for it.

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

I wait by the elevators, nervous. I don't even know why I'm nervous, to be honest. All I know is, my palms are sweating like crazy, my blood feel cold, this dress is ridiculously tight around the wrong areas, and right now, I feel nothing but a cow, dressed up and paraded before being sent to the slaughter house. Jack notices me, and slowly, he walks over.

"You did good in your interview," Jack says nonchalantly. "Really held your own."

I smirk at the image of my brutal honesty towards Caesar's questions. I wasn't going to lie about anything. So when he asked about other tributes, I told him what I thought, though, he did dance around a lot of the tributes who got higher scores. Really, that's all my interview was based around, compared to Jack, where he cared more for his strategy and feelings about being stripped away from Five.

"You done... Okay, I suppose." I shrug, jabbing my finger into the button.

"This is like deja vu."

I spin around, glaring at Jack. "What did you say to me?"

He frowns, holding his hands up. "Deja vu. Nothing mean, Cam. Just saying. We were here, before, you stabbing a button because you can't wait to get out of your clothes."

He's right, actually, and instinctively, I start scratching at the blood orange dress. "It's these Capitol clothes. They're awful. You'd think, having a whole district dedicated to textiles and fabrics and all that, they'd be able to create _something_ a lot better for us to wear."

The doors open and we slide in, this time, Jack by my side.

"Gavan and Mirana did okay, don't you agree?"

I shrug. "Gavan was okay, but when the crowd kept laughing, you could _tell_ he was getting jittery."

"Paranoia works wonders, really." Jack smiles and laughs a little, a lot more relaxed than I've ever seen Jack.

"Mirana was so cute and ditsy Caesar looked like he had a real bad time trying to keep up with her tales about dragons and that," I laugh at the memory of Mirana handing her pocket watch over to the man, and his poor, confused face when he accepted it and Mirana semi freaked out. "Well, at least they made impressions. That's important for sponsors, I suppose, and if they benefit, we do as well."

The elevator dings, yet somehow, I don't want Jack to go.

"Guess it has finally arrived," Jack sighs. "Tomorrow, the arena."

I nod. "Yeah."

"I'll see _you_ there then." Jack offers a smile as he steps out, and instantly, I can feel his presence gone. If I get this attached to everyone, I'm so screwed.

* * *

**Gavan Dior, District Six Male.**

* * *

"Gavan, _please_, open up!"

I ignore Fabriola's pleading cries, coupled with the odd laughter from Karli, finding amusement out of it all. I don't even know what went wrong, why I ended up shutting myself in here. All I know is, being out there in the open with all those eyes on you, I was an easy target and Caesar exploited that. He made fun of me, got the crowd to jeer.

"Let me try," I hear Karli's muffled voice. "Gavan, can you open up?"

"No!" I shout back.

And instantly, I hear Karli break out into another muffled chuckle, before there's shuffling and soon enough, the shadow underneath the door has disappeared. I need to be alone. Right now, this is my last time before it all goes down the drain soon enough.

My eyelids flutter open and closed, and to calm myself down, I count.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Si-

A knock cuts my thoughts off. But this time, the knock is a lot harsher and meaner. I know it isn't Fabriola, nor Karli, Track wouldn't bother so that basically leaves one choice open. The one person who doesn't help, no matter what.

"Gavan Dior, you open this door if you wish to live before you go into the arena!"

I struggle to my feet, puttering over quietly to the door and unlocking it. It opens at a haunting, slow pace, revealing Polo and her stocky form. She glares, before sighing heavily.

"Don't do this to yourself," Polo states simply. "I'm serious. It will make your time in there a _lot_ harder than it should."

I almost don't understand how she can be cruel, mocking, only telling me yesterday that I was basically dead before I even got the chance to try it out. Now, she's standing here, illuminated by the darkness, telling me that I shouldn't be so paranoid.

"Why are you saying this?" I choke out.

Polo rolls her eyes. "I don't think you have a good chance, I'll admit that, but I was in your position a long time ago. I've seen kids come and go, a bare minimum _ever_ returning. I was like you before I went in there and it changed me, it _made_ me into what I am now. Don't let them take you before you get in there, okay?"

I know this is probably the most kindness I'd ever receive from Polo, so I nod, accepting it.

"Good," Polo begins to walk out. "So _stop_ being an idiot and man up. If Karli can do it, and she's just as useless, then _you_ can too."

* * *

**Timber Murdock, District Seven Male.**

* * *

No. No. I won't let you out again, Mason. This isn't fair.

Somewhere deep in my mind, I hear a growl, like an animal, except I know that it isn't. It's Mason, waiting for me to give in, to concede defeat, and he'll take over and do what he wants, like always, like it's always been since a young age.

Once, he was my brother.

We were never the same. He was snarky, arrogant, cocksure and confident with everything and everyone. But underneath that, Mason always had a darker side. A side that enjoyed watching people in pain, suffering, anything that wasn't happy, he loved it. I was his opposite, his younger, shy and mousy in comparison. He bullied me often, but at the time, I thought it was something all siblings tend to do to each other.

It grew _worse_.

Then, one day, he took it too far.

Blackmailing me, I ended up travelling to the local lumberyard, owned by an old, frail man that struggled to look after it. It was one of many, but that wasn't the point. If you lived locally, you used that over others. He jeered, poked and pushed me. Then, before I knew it, I was shoving him, so hard, he fell back onto the conveyor belt.

His jacket, worn and ragged, got snagged on the machine.

That was when we changed personalities. He was mousy and weak, begging me to help. I was scared, hurt, wondering why he hated me so much with my hand on the lever for the machine. I didn't want to push it down, and I didn't.

I tore him away from the machine, and instantly, he pushed me into a block of wood out of anger.

This time, I fought back, and we tussled. We knocked into that lever and turned it on, but no-one was attached. Then with a final push, Mason fell backwards, circular blade cutting him deep. Accidental. I _tried_ to save him, I _really_ did. I pressed my hands down on the wound to try and stop the blood. But he died, breathing his last words into my ear.

"You killed me."

Guilt took over, and shaking, I cleaned it all up, burying his body. My parents assumed Mason ran away. No-one ever found out.

The price?

Him taking over when he wants. I squint, the pain becoming too much, before everything goes dark. I rise, smiling, enjoying the fact that Timber remembers the memory so much. Tomorrow, I will kill. Tomorrow, Timber will be gone forever, through the trauma I'll cause, and I'll be back.

For _good_ this time.

* * *

**Mirana Capulet, District Eight Female.**

* * *

Stitch walks slowly by my side, up the flight of stairs we've decided to take. Behind us, Cecelia trails, because Woof was too sick to make it out of bed this morning. Fervis wished us luck, giving us tiny kisses to the cheek before we left the apartment floor. Her kisses remind me of the ones my mom used to give me when I went to sleep. It was soft, tight, and I repeat the actions every time I go to my pocket watch.

"When you get into the hovercraft, they'll inject you with your tracker. At the Launch Room, your stylist will be waiting for you," Cecelia calls from behind. "Don't worry, Mirana, it's only a small pinch to the arm. Don't too hurtful. When you're on board, try to eat something. You'll only be offered food here and when you're in the Launch Room already dressed. But by then, nerves might be there and it might be hard to keep it down."

I just nod, too trapped in my mind to answer.

This all reminds me of a fairy tale my mom told me. When this guy, I don't remember his name, was trapped in a labyrinth and there was this creature he had to face. I'm going to be that guy, and the rest of the tributes are going to be the monster. Except Jack, Cameron and Gavan. They're too kind for that.

"How are you feeling Stitch?" I mindlessly ask.

He shrugs his shoulders, not taken too much attention of me. "Fine I suppose."

"_Same_," I smile, which turns into a beam naturally. "You know, this reminds me of something my mom used to tell m-"

"I know," Stitch cuts in, looking at me as we climb. He frowns, as if feeling guilty. "You've mentioned it before. Sorry, I'm stressed."

"I understand," I smile it all away, like I'm used too. "I feel the same as you, you know."

He forces a small smile that quickly disappears, and for a little bit, I can't quite remember where I stand with Stitch. Some people get on with their district partner, like Jack and Cameron though they bicker, and some make enemies. With Stitch, he seems nice one minute, and standoffish the next, like he can't quite decide whether to like me or not.

Stitch pushes the door open, revealing the roof.

It doesn't take me long to find Jack and Cameron, splitting up to head to one of the two hovercrafts.

"Stitch, you go to the left," Cecelia points to one of the heavy machines. "Mirana, to the right."

I'm going to be in the same hovercraft as Cameron. Stitch doesn't say anything, but forces another smile, and begins to walk away. Cecelia doesn't let me go so easily, though.

"Mirana, I just... I want to tell you how _brave_ you are being right now."

I smile at the compliment. "Thank you. My pocket watch is making me feel safe. It reminds me of home."

"That's always good," Cecelia smiles again. "Take care, 'Rana. You've been one of my favourite tributes to mentor."

Tears begin to brim in the corners of Cecelia's eyes, but she looks away, holding them back. And silently, she leaves, my last connection severed. I make my way towards the vehicle, smiling at the boy from Ten as he lines up near me. This is it. Everything is about to happen.

And deep down, I'm probably not ready for this. But I have no choice. I want to go home _so_ bad.

* * *

**Fern Bracken, District Nine Female.**

* * *

"This should only hurt a _little_ bit," the lady with a rather large nose says, injecting me with my tracker. I hiss as she completes it and dabs at my arm with a piece of cotton. "There we go, all done."

She moves on to the next person, the little girl Ten, and repeats the action. My arm stings a little, and mentally, I add the lady with the large nose to my list. The machine makes no noise, but the silence is comforting. I'm ready for this. _Course_ I am. If I can deal with a bratty child like Koel, an idiot like Castor and ridiculous mentors like Auckland and Victory, then I can easily drag a knife across someone's throat.

Piece of cake, actually.

The Ten girl squeaks when big nose is finished, and I do everything not to roll my eyes.

She has no chance.

Like Koel.

Two little kids, killed at the very beginning. I wonder how their stomachs are handling it? Twisting into tight knots, almost suffocating. Burning nerves, whittling away.

The ride takes a while, around an hour, and during that time, I add more and more names to my list. The Ten Girl, Samia I've learned, goes straight on. The boy from Eleven, girl from Twelve, boy from Eight who shifts his eyes wickedly and many, many more. By the time I've even realised the journey is over, I've add eleven tributes down, knowing their names. Piece of _cake_, as I said.

It stops, the doors open, and one by one we're escorted out by a pair of Peacekeepers, taken to our Launch Rooms. When I walk in, I smile at the coldness of the concrete, my stylist waiting ahead, her bubblegum pink hair twirling down in curls across her shoulders.

"I can't wait to get you into this outfit," she sings, and bam, _another_ added to my list simply for her voice. "It is spectacular!"

"Is it really?"

"Indeed," she beams wildly. "It is truly a piece of art."

Right now, dealing with Castor might be more interesting. At least I can openly mock him. This woman right here, I can't, simply because I don't even know her name. If I did then I'd leave her in a blubbering mess. But it's fine. I have a huge list to start with anyway.

First thing first, Koel goes down.

And from there, one by one, the eleven tributes in my hovercraft will fall.

At the end of the day, I will win, and when I return, I'll make sure to rub it all in Castor's face.

* * *

**Chord Wickers, District Ten Male.**

* * *

My stylist, Ula, hands me the clothes to get into, the clothes I'm either going to die in or walk away wearing. And if things go right, I should die in this so Sami can go back home to her family. They're nothing special this year, but that doesn't surprise me. I've spent many years watching the Games. My family was completely against it, yet somehow, they still watched it in the fear that either me or my sister, Asha, would be chosen. Tips and all that, I guess.

The uniform this year is nothing but a tight, black top that clings to my skin and a pair of tan, cargo shorts that stop just halfway over my knees, revealing my legs. The black boots, however, are surprisingly comfortable and squishy. Usually they want to make us suffer, and this year, everything seems completely not... Which makes me worry more about the actual arena.

"The last little bit is this," Ula says quietly, handing me a thin, forest green belt. "Everyone is required to wear one. Green is to '_represent_' District Ten."

"So Sami will have the same?"

Ula nods. "One have a royal blue colour. Two in red. Three in yellow and so forth. Ten pulled the short straw of green, to represent the pastures and grass of the farms."

I tune her out for a moment as I strap it around my waist, the divide between the black top and tan cargo shorts.

"Does it have any use?"

"Not exactly," Ula presses forward, looking confused at the belt. "It's _nothing_ special, I can tell you that. No hidden utilities or devices. Just a plain, leather belt."

I'm a little confused. Everything seems so normal, so completely, strangely normal. I can almost imagine the fear in Sami's heart as she tries her hardest to understand what is happening with the uniform. Ula doesn't have a clue, though, and when I look at her for more advice, she sighs.

"I don't know anything Chord," she admits. "This is it. The uniform expels water, but of course, the shorts themselves might even expel them, but I'm not too sure. If it's cold in there, you'll need something to warm up. These won't keep you warm. Likewise for when it might be hot. If it is, I suggest you strip. The belt? Nothing at all. Simple an accessory to divide you all and make you stand out."

"Nothing at all."

"Nothing at all," Ula repeats. "Don't worry."

"How long do we have until launch?"

Ula checks the clock. "Five minutes. Sit, rest for a bit, it might be all too much when it arrives."

So, I sit down on the concrete bench, still trying to work everything out. The only plus side is, when I look in the mirror, I know that I don't look ridiculously out of place. Though, the nagging feeling of what is about to come bugs me. _Anything_ can happen. It can be anything.

And that's what scares me more than anything.

* * *

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

My knees jerk up and down, my foot tapping the ground. Somewhere in my mind, it begins to swirl, nerves building and building. I'm used to hard labor. God dammit, I'm used to the constant fear of what hunting brings.

"Eat something," my stylist suggests harshly. "You'll _need_ it."

Slowly, I begin to sip the soup handed to me.

All day, all night, I walk about a field, taking my job as Scarecrow seriously. Bow and arrow poised in hand, I'd shoot anything predatory that steps onto the land and threatens to harm the crops. I'm not a perfect shot, no-one really is, but I always caught them somewhere. Legs. Paws. Head sometimes. Sometimes, they'd run away, sometimes they'd just die there, bleeding out on the land. And each time, I'd silently say sorry for taking their life.

_And then you'd repeat the action, Alto._

I know that. I had no choice, though. If I wanted to eat, I needed to protect the crops.

_So being in here shouldn't be any different for you. Shoot like your life depended on it. Shoot like you need to put food on the table for your siblings._

I sigh, looking to the clock. Three minutes.

It'll rise, I'll be terrified, I'll run and grab something and go explore with my allies, on the hope that they survive. First thing is first, find Addilyn and get her out. Koel will make his own way towards us, he's fine, whereas I'm not too bothered as to if Ashton will get to us. Something about him really bugs me too much.

My fingers on one hand toy with the belt strapped to my pants, a hideous dark brown colour, apparently to highlight the majority of darker skinned people from my district. Yet, as my stylist said it, I can tell she was careful because of me being Caucasian. Truthfully, in Eleven, white-skinned people are the minority, forced to become the Scarecrows. Poverty is the norm, but for the Scarecrows? There's a step below poverty and that's where we lie.

My eyes find the clock again. Two minutes.

Bit by bit, it's dragging along.

I want it to all be over, really.

_Be more positive. Negativity will only drag you down, Alto, and that won't be fair on you or the others._

Even though I promised myself to not get attached?

_Still not fair. And no matter what, you've always been fair._

I place the space down carefully, sighing as I straighten my back. I'm right. Positivism. I can do this.

Don't rush it, because no doubt, I'll regret it.

* * *

**Anastasia Burne, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I'll run in and grab something. Haymitch, in a drunken state, told me to avoid the Cornucopia at all cost and run out, finding a water source of something. Ashton just scoffed, called him crazy, and walked out. Haymitch got a tad more serious, telling me that I should listen to him to avoid being killed, but I just can't do that.

I need to actually do what I want to do, not what someone tells me too.

Then, Karli should meet me at the golden horn, and we'll run out and explore together.

That's the plan. I just hope that Karli will stick to it and not abandon me.

"It's time," Enzo squeaks in his totally non-masculine voice. "Don't forget what your mentor and Pashmina said."

"I'll _try_ not too."

I stand, my legs knocking, and move to the plate. I stand inside, placing my hand against the cool glass as it begins to slide down. I look to Enzo, wanting some sort of sympathy, but he turns his back and walks out coldly. My stomach twists into a knot as the plate begins to rise upwards, and if it wasn't for the plate beneath my feet, I would probably collapse. Sunlight begins to stream from the top of the tube, and squinting my eyes, I brace myself for what could possibly be my death.

When the sunlight fades, my breath hitches in my throat.

I blink a few times, trying to understand it all.

To my right is the girl from Eleven, who looks a little confused, but besides that, not as scared as I thought. On my left, however, is the girl from Eight, who, with amazed eyes, mutters something to herself as she plays with a strand of red hair idly.

At first, it takes a while to even notice the fact that there is nothing, not a single item, between me and the Cornucopia. The concrete, cracked and jarred, is open, not littered by anything all the way around. The mouth of the Cornucopia is facing me, and when I finally stare inside, I see nothing but backpacks.

Eight sighs in amazement again. I look up curiously to see nothing but a reflective, shimmering surface skimming straight up like a curved wall, at the top, a glass sphere that streams the bright light in. It's almost like the tube I just rose up in. But behind some of the tributes, I see concrete stairs and what looks like broken escalators disappearing upwards.

Whatever is up there is hidden by the reflective surface.

It could mean _anything_.

That's why, rather than weapons, they filled the Cornucopia with backpacks. Survival rather than fighting.

Panic rises in me at the possibility of struggling without food or water.

Then, it's replaced by how brutal the bloodbath is going to be. No weapons means everybody fighting hand-to-hand over the dying amount of orange backpacks.

This year is _sure_ to be horrible indeed.

* * *

**Come Away To The Water by Maroon 5.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. Deaths will be notified there.**

* * *

**I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**I would love to hear some feedback, rather then just your votes. I take pride in my work, and anything you say about it, I'll appreciate it more than just your votes!**

* * *

**WE'RE HERE!**

**Get ready to say goodbye to some tributes. Voting is crucial. The weakest tributes, as well as created bloodbaths, will be gone next chapter. You may now start mentioning who your tribute is!**

**Again, let me know who stands out to you, who doesn't, general information, anything!**


	8. Radioactive

**Radioactive.**

_It's a revolution, I suppose._ _We'll paint it red to fit right in.__  
_

* * *

**Waverly Pond, District Four Male.**

* * *

It takes a while for me to even begin breathing again. Everything is so surreal, so amazing. I _never_ expected it to be this overwhelming. I take in my sights, trying to understand it all. Finnick said the Careers alliance is important to stay in, and I understand that, but it's so hard to compete against trained killers. I trained, sure, but playing with tridents and spears, without hitting targets, isn't exactly what everyone else is used too.

I feel more like the reaped, rather than the volunteers.

_60...50..._

My eyes wander around the large circle, everyone dressed the same, their coloured belts setting them apart. Four plates to my left is Theo, standing tall with a grim expression as he realises that the Cornucopia has no weapons, only backpacks. And since you have no idea what really is out in the arena, you have to take the backpacks, because there could be no water, no food, no survival kits. Besides Theo, I can see Lorelei, six tributes to my right. Gage not far from Theo, and... And that's it. Astor, Garnet and Delaney must be on the other side, blocked from my view.

_40..._

Was I ever really ready for this?

I watched Finnick's games, and throughout, he was the one to beat because he was so good. I thought it'd be that easy. But then again, I've never been the one to beat in this competition, which means I'm on a whole other level, lower than the Careers, higher than half the reaped.

And for a supposed Career, who volunteered because he thought it was easy, doesn't look too good at all.

The boys from Eleven and Twelve are on either of my sides, and compared to me, both look far too stunned to even allow fear to take over.

_30...20...10..._

Any moment now, the gong will go, and I'll have to fight. This bloodbath will be intense, chaotic, bloody. Everyone will want a backpack, and no doubt, they'll fight for it no matter what. Inside is the contents to save you. I can't see _too_ many tributes willingly running away up the concrete steps or broken, rusted escalators. I spin around, finding a staircase behind me back a little, which I could easily take. Behind that distance is a broken, chipped water fountain, covered in slimy green moss.

_0..._

The gong sounds, and without a doubt, I leap off my plate and run forward, alongside every other tribute, though some stand and hold back. No-one opts to run away, though, and I can't fight the sickness at the coming brutality. I'm not fast, not in the slightest, but Theo and Lorelei are at the Cornucopia in seconds, grabbing a backpack each. Garnet and Astor join us, but it's chaotic, and in the midst, someone hits me over the back of the head.

I sprawl to the floor, tucking myself around just in time to watch the girl from Eleven grab a bag and begin to run. She hit me. But she's quick to run into Astor, who delivers a slap to her face. But Eleven has an ally who will fight, and sadly, the girl from Seven is quick to fly in at Astor and knock her to the floor.

The boy from Twelve runs at me. I'm on my feet in seconds, and harshly, I grab him by the scruff of his collar and launch him to the side.

It's only then, as Theo opens a bag, do we see the contents.

Large, broken pieces of rubble. _Nothing_ else.

"Shit." Theo mumbles under his breath.

"What is it?" Lorelei asks evenly.

He hauls out the piece of stone, showing the rough edges to her. "Stone. They want us to kill with these."

I could almost see a calculating, dark glint in Lorelei's eyes, but she grabs the rock from Theo's hand and runs into the oncoming crowd.

Theo opens his mouth to say something, but it's cut off by a girl's scream. I whip my head around, just in time to see Delaney, rock in hand, cave it into the little girl from Ten's skull. Blood and white chunks of skull fly out, but she's dead in seconds. It's only then, do I see Garnet, an empty orange backpack in hand, to know he handed her the rock with a dark smile.

Her blood spills on the floor, and once again, the sickness arises.

You wanted this, Waverly. Remember that.

Now, I wish I wasn't _so_ stupid into volunteering for this. My chances of making it out alive are less than none.

* * *

**Astor Sheen, District One Female.**

* * *

I almost had the girl from Eleven, but her partner was quick. They grabbed a backpack, which I _now_ know is nothing but rocks. A cheap trick by the Gamemakers to either confuse us, leave us without a clue, or to ensure the bloodiest bloodbath in history.

I rub my hand over my cheek, where Seven slapped me rather hard after tackling me to the floor. My eyes close, just for a second, and I work out what I need to do. Killing isn't a problem for me. I'll do anything to return and bring that honor I want, but it's finding the right people.

Then, almost poetic, I see the girl from Five standing idly, looking for her partners. I run across the jagged floor, ignoring Ten's blood on the floor, skimming it. Cameron, I think her name is, notices me just to time to begin running in the opposite direction. Sadly, as she dodges one of the many cracked, moss covered fountains, she clips her leg and stumbles, making me tackling her a lot easier.

I'm used to rough and tumble. Blackdamp can do that to a person, really.

I don't say anything as I punch her in the jaw.

She says nothing as she squirms, managing to kick me rather awkwardly, like she can't fight for her life.

But like taking on Eleven, Cameron has an alliance, and the silly girl from Eight runs near us and screams, a high shriek like that of a banshee, and that catches my attention enough to drop my guard. Cameron manages to wiggle free, kick me awkwardly once more, then dash up a broken escalator, tugging Eight's hand with her.

"_Fuck_," I hiss under my breath, watching Theo come over. He looks at me with those steady eyes of his. "What do you want?"

"Thought you could use help," Theo mumbles, passing me a large rock. "All we have."

"I know."

Silence takes over, the screams and fights in the background clear. Over Theo's shoulder, I can see the boy from Eight fighting with Garnet, and as much as Garnet swings the large rock, it never hits as Eight manages to practically dance off every move, before delivering a kick to his knee and sprinting up the stairs.

Bit by bit, everyone is leaving.

"Where's Gage?" I say, throwing back some of my hair.

Theo shrugs. "Not sure. You go find him, I'm going to find Delaney. Round up the alliance."

I nod, because really, I have nothing against Theo or his leadership skills. He's good enough, and everyone pretty much knows that someone from Two leads the Careers to hopeful victory. As I walk back to the Cornucopia, the carnage is astounding, everyone whose left actually trying to fight and attack each other. The only ones that look like they've escaped are the most obvious.

Then, I see Gage, rock in hand, near the Cornucopia.

I frown, watching him approach closer and closer to Waverly. He must think he's subtle, because in a flash, he grabs Waverly and pulls him into the darkness of the golden horn. It doesn't take a moment, but Gage emerges, dropping the rock stained with blood to the floor and walks off, almost completely unfazed.

He killed Waverly and thought _no-one_ would know.

Looks like there's a traitor in our midst. I smile to myself, remembering to never fully trust Gage, not that I did anyway. Three tributes are sneaky, smart bastards and you can trust them. Not a single bit. I see Theo catching Delaney before she throws a rock out of desperation at the boy from Six as he clambers up an escalator, the boy from Five waiting closer to the top. Then, sadly, I turn my head to see the boy from Ten, looking down with a pale face at his dead district partner. They looked so attached. He makes a silent pray for her as he jogs up an escalator.

But, I don't attack him or run after him. Not only is he tough and might be able to snap my neck if needed, but he looks so pained from losing her, that's just cruel.

And I might be a Career, not even properly trained, but I am far from cruel.

That job is for _idiots_ like Garnet and Delaney.

* * *

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

I wait at the bottom of the steps with Koel, ready to run when needed. I couldn't even see Addilyn on the plates, which makes me think she was on the other side. But Koel was so close, and we decided to just run. Ashton was even closer, but the boy with a death wish, obviously, ran into the crowd.

"Addilyn!" Koel screams at the top of his lungs, and surprisingly, Addilyn appears, running towards us out of breath and a bright pink mark to her face.

"What happened?" I ask.

She touches it gently and offers a soft smile. "Girl from Two slapped me pretty hard."

I almost want to touch her face for her. I should have ran and tried to get her.

_Then you would have been hit, Alto. She's safe. That's all that matters._

Looking back on the crowd, knowing no Careers are near us, we jog up the steps as quick as possible.

And like rising, my breath hitches, the full extent of the arena now on show. There are shops, lining the entire view in front of me, giant glass windows showing off all what's inside. The shop in front of us is home to knives, big and small, large and heavy, thin and dainty. Next to it contains axes, varying in colour and size. Everything. When I turn around, the reflective surface that hid the upper levels, obviously, has disappeared, now working only one way.

It still shimmers, and Addilyn is careful to warn us when I hear an electrical pop.

But by stepping near it, you can see downwards towards the Cornucopia. It's then do I see Ashton, being gripped by the brute from One. He's murderous, awful, as he drags Ashton by his curly locks to one of the steps, repeatedly bringing his small head down on the concrete. Blood pools as Ashton screams, but you can't hear anything.

"It doesn't let noise come through," Addilyn says numbly. "Soundproof."

It makes sense. Then, my eyes drift upwards to see shops on the other side. A shop full of blankets, another of swords, even bow and arrows. Tons, spit up haphazardly along the whole walls. I watch as the girls from Five and Eight slip silently through one of the doors, ready to hide in a shop full of blankets.

"It's a mall," Addilyn says aloud, once more. "Like, back in olden times. This is the second level. Down there must be the plaza."

"So we can see them across?"

"Yes," Addilyn nods, a little pale apart from her sickening pink bruise. "That's why we can see them. I'm guessing it's to produce some fear. Being able to see each other, just across the gap, but not being able to get near or scream or anything. You just _watch_ as someone you know dies, someone you hate preparing to find you, taunting you. But the barrier keeps people like Alto with their bow and arrow from picking people off so easily."

It's a large circle, meaning it wouldn't take that long to run around. But the gap across is rather wide, and even up here, you can feel the warmth of the sunlight drifting downwards. That's why there was backpacks full of rocks. Everything you need is further up, but they still wanted a bloodbath. Playing on your fear of the unknown, but to find out it's false hope.

"Where should we go?" Koel asks.

Addilyn turns, showing off another set of steps that go higher. Then, as if she points them out, I can see more and more steps, rusted escalators, all heading to higher levels. The arena isn't wide this year, it's tall. But the glass roof perplexes me. Why let sunlight in here, when you could just cut off nature altogether?

_You know why._

I don't, though. It doesn't make sense.

_Yes, deep down, you do. Think back to the nights out in the fields, waiting, when you couldn't sleep and you just wondered around aimlessly._

So, I do. I remember them all too well. The moonlight in the distance, stars peppering the black sky, the haunting whisper of the animals sneaking around. It was awful, because at any point, something could happen. This year looks like it's trying to represent fear, but in a total different way.

"_Up_," Addilyn smiles a forced, soft smile, and once again, I remind myself that no attachment makes it easier. "We go up."

* * *

**Anastasia Burne, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I breath heavily, the girl from Two pinning me down. She seethes angrily into my face. She was always beautiful. Her chariot rides, her interview, you couldn't help but look at her. Right now, though, is the face of an animal, not a human.

"Anything to say, Twelve?"

I look unsteadily at the rock, gripped in her hand, knuckles white. She didn't think when she caved the girl from Ten's skull in, or when she slapped her from Three.

Something about her tells me she hates girls a lot.

"I-I have _nothing_ to say." I muster up as much bravery as I can.

She grins darkly at that, knowing that she can do whatever she wants at a whim. By now, nearly everyone has braved going upstairs. Besides the three deaths, mine about to join, every tribute has run, knowing that the backpacks were simply a trick to pull us in, including Karli. She wasn't far from me, but she didn't even bother trying. As everyone ran forward, she stopped, surveying the area as I tried my hardest to go in.

I managed to fight back the boy from Eight, whilst his district partner proved no threat when she just watched me like a little puppy with wide eyes.

Then, the Careers began to gather minus the boy from Four who seemed to have disappeared. But I wasn't quick enough to run away. I failed that part.

Two saw me, threw a rock that surprisingly caught me at the back of my leg and clipped me, and now, here I am, at her mercy.

"I really want you to _beg_, though," Two smiles sickly sweet. "_Beg_ for your life and I might give you it."

It's a tempting offer. One I know she would never, ever keep.

"Ana!"

I look around, just to see Karli run down the stairs, out of breath with wide eyes, much like Eight's. My heart sinks when I realise, that by running down those steps, the rest of the Careers are obscured from her. She can't see them, just around the golden horn.

"K-Karli, run!" I scream pathetically, much to Two's delight.

She doesn't get the chance, too. As she whips her head around to begin running, the girl from Four makes a dash towards her. Karli attempts to run. My eyes grow wet as Four tackles her to the ground, holding her down by hair dark locks that I've always envied about Karli.

"You just got your friend killed." Two sniggers.

And as I strain my neck to watch, though I don't know why, I watch as Four twists and snaps Karli's neck like it was nothing more than a twig. As Karli's head goes limp and hits the floor, I see tears still leaking from her face, crying before she was killed. She ran to save me, when all this time, I haven't cared too much for our alliance, even though she's a nice girl. The tears begin to flow properly, but Two steps off me.

"I'll let you go," Two smiles sickly again. "But _only_ because I need someone to hunt. You have about three minutes before I hunt you down and open you up, bit by bit. Go."

I don't argue. I'm on my feet, and pathetically, I run past Karli's body without giving it another look. If I do, I'd only be more ashamed of myself then I already did. I prayed she wouldn't abandon me, and I almost was sure she did, but instead, she came back and lost her life.

Clambering up the steps, I fight back the feelings of shame that continues to grow. Now, I'll have to live with myself and my actions.

Maybe letting Delaney kill me, there and then, was a better choice. A quick, easy end to it all. Now, whether I win or lose, I'll have Karli's death over my conscience. And that might not be something I could _ever_ handle.

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

After Delaney lets the girl from Twelve go, surprisingly, there is no-one else around. We managed to kill three people. Three dead. Delaney killed Ten, Garnet killed Twelve and Lorelei killed Six. Not exactly the impressive bloodbath they tricked us all into. Though, we did fight a lot. I didn't even see Ten escape, and deep down, I wince at the thought of him seeing his partner that he was so attached too.

"Well that sucked," Delaney rolls her eyes. "Only _three_ are dead."

"Well you didn't have to let her go, Delaney," Garnet smirks. "You chose too."

"What can I say? I like to play with my food before I eat them, so to speak."

Then, Astor steps forward. "Actually, four are dead. Check the Cornucopia. I _think_ we're missing someone."

I quickly do a head check, knowing that Astor and Garnet are here, me and Delaney, Gage annoyingly and Lorelei... No Waverly. Everyone looks at me, expecting me to go and look, and begrudgingly I do. Peering into the shadows of the mouth, I spot Waverly, sprawled out on top of the leftover orange backpacks, a thin stream of blood trailing down his face and eyes wide, colourless.

It's not hard to notice his skull dipping in.

"Someone killed him." I say aloud.

When I climb out, no-one offers an answer.

"Did any of you see where he went? Who was near him?"

Again, no-one knows. Lorelei just shrugs, Delaney plays with her nails, Garnet looks confused and Astor, actually, is hiding a smile.

"I don't know who done it," Astor says sweetly. "Though, I did see a lot of tributes loitering around, and Waverly wasn't fighting with anyone. Easy pickings."

But as she finishes her sentence, she looks at Gage in a way that you would only if you knew a secret they held tightly. Much like Delaney, when she stares at me, or when I look at her. We hold each other's secrets as close as we can, but sometimes, she'll smirk and look at me if anything comes up that remotely relates to it. That's what you get for being best friends with a psychopathic slut.

"Doesn't really matter," Garnet says. "He wasn't _worthy_ of his position anyway, what with a tiny score."

"You could say the same thing about _Gage_." Astor counters.

Gage shrinks a little under the watchful eyes, but still doesn't fully relent. "As I said, it was all a plan to look less intimidating."

"Sure thing kid," Garnet laughs. "When you're ready to die, let me know, I'll happily murder you. Boss, what are we doing?"

Garnet and me have always had a weird, semi-friendship. He trusts me enough to boss him around. I managed to get him to stop eyeballing the girl from Ten during lunch that one time. He listens to me, and always seems to respond sarcastically.

"We'll head up the stairs then," I point to one in particular. "This one. If the reaped can run up it and no-one has gotten killed, then it should be safe for us."

"Clever thinking." Delaney winks.

She saunters to the front, and one by one with Gage trailing the back, we move up the stairs. They're not long, but they're chipped in places and parts are falling. When we reach the top, however, we come face to face with Garnet's dream.

"Swords!" Garnet almost giggles in excitement, as he rushes into the... Shop?

"Impressive." Lorelei says quietly, and I can't help but nod in agreement.

Soon enough, I follow Garnet to the door, seeing him swing a large, silver-handled sword around, pretending he's attacking the others. The girls pile up at the door, Gage somewhere hidden. Garnet smirks, grabbing another sword off the rack and throwing it at me.

"Come on, fight me."

I rise the sword, but lower it, almost like I'm taunting him. "No thanks. We're fighting over people not ourselves. Yet."

He shrugs, deciding that this is his sword, and we walk out. Surprisingly, as I look out, I can see the small alliance, the littles, ascending another staircase. Delaney growls under her breath, but I lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Patience," I smile. "We'll get to them eventually. For now, go find a knife. A _big_ one."

* * *

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.**

* * *

As Delaney skitters past us and towards a shop that seems to house knives along with Theo, Astor and Garnet, I look to Gage. Everyone basically knows he killed Waverly. Astor made that very clear. A part of me thanks him for doing it. Poor Waverly, so stupid and naive, he would have crumbled under the pressure within seconds. The other part of me, however, is burning anger. Even if Waverly was stupid and annoying and idiotic and relied too much on being Finnick's friend, he didn't deserved to be killed by the little creep from _Three_.

Except, he's _not_ a genius.

Because we all know what he's playing. And it won't be long until someone calls him out on it. Possibly even kill him.

I might even do it myself if he ever tries something like that with me. Just because he's from Three, doesn't mean he's as smart as he thinks he is.

My mind drifts to all the cameras watching us. I wonder if they caught him murdering Waverly? What would his parents think, so ready to say goodbye to a dorky son, only to find he's more than capable? My own family soon takes center stage, my father Merrick, struggling to pay for my training, yet he always did, because I promised I'll win and pay him back. Even that witch of a mother, Nerissa, abandoning us just because she didn't like the idea of me or Dylan actually trying to fight and protect ourselves, so one day, we could pay them back.

My training was never proper compared to others. Cheap, worthless training, but it prepared me enough.

My thoughts crash when I see the boy from Seven, standing just down the walkway, an impressive axe in his hands.

He growls something, a curse perhaps, before he sprints forward angrily.

I hear a squeak come from Gage, but choose to ignore him as Seven closes in. He swings his axe, and I'm almost tempted to thrust Gage into it. But I don't, and as the axe hits the floor and screeches against ceramic tiles, I push him with all of my might into the shop wall. He bounces off of it pretty well, but he looks dazed.

They come out just in time to see him swing his axe again, which of course, I dodge easily.

Delaney _attempts_ to throw a knife, but like before, she's awful and it complete misses.

Seven manages to push me down to the ground, and I look up, just to see Gage stand back with wide eyes as Seven raises his axe above me. It's all over.

But then, I see Theo run forward, his hand wrapped around the sword Garnet threw at him playfully. He jerks it forward, piercing Seven straight through the gut. He stumbles and mumbles and falls to his knees, just at my feet. It's only then do I see his eyes go from dark to more soft.

That's when the tears and a smile form as he falls onto his back.

I lean over him, and it's funny, because he reminds me nothing of the boy that just went out of his way to attack and try to kill me.

"I-I-I'm sorry..." Seven mumbles with quivering lips producing blood.

I want to tell him he should be sorry. Trying to kill me like that. But, then I remember I would have done the same.

"Don't be."

His smiles stretches just a little bit more and he takes his last. "I'm free..."

And he's gone. Dead. A hole gaped in his chest.

I look to Theo and he gives me a stony nod in recognition of my thanks. I stand, albeit a bit shaky, and look at Gage with cold, hardened eyes. He cowers under my glare. Straight after, the cannons begin to boom, but we already know the number of dead.

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

Yep. Five down, eighteen more to die before I can walk away with my head held high.

"You were _lucky_." Garnet smirks.

I glare at him, too, before offering a forceful, sarcastic smile. "I want a spear. Now. Then, I'll _always_ be lucky."

As we begin to walk again, stepping over the river of blood Seven has begun to create, I find Gage trailing further and further back, and it takes everything not to just push him into the forcefield right here and right now, watch his body blackened from the electrical hiss. But I don't. Because, sooner or later, the genius _will_ fall and I'll simply laugh.

I promised that I will unravel in the games.

Lets just hope _everyone_ is actually prepared for me.

* * *

**Radioactive by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Samia Carson, District Ten.**

**Waverly Pond, District Four.**

**Ashton Myers, District Twelve.**

**Karli Hudson, District Six.**

**Timber Murdock, District Seven.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**I would love to hear some feedback, rather then just your votes. I take pride in my work, and anything you say about it, I'll appreciate it more than just your votes! Please!**

* * *

**The arena will be fun! So many surprises to do, much like CP! Hope you liked my trick for the Cornucopia, I really struggled to do that, since the arena has everything!**


	9. Round And Round

**Round And Round.**_  
_

_Round and round,_ _I'm not gonna let you change my mind, t__ill you show me what this life is for._

* * *

**Fern Bracken, District Nine Female.**

* * *

"Perfect," I whisper to myself, plucking the scythe from the stand. It feels good in my arms. Home. "_Too_ perfect."

It's funny, actually, how I never bothered to play around with this little trusty weapon during training. Maybe it was my strategy all along. After all, those idiots who portrayed everything basically signed their death off. I spin around the shop I'm in, smiling at the many different types of weapons perfect for Nine. Scimitars, scythes, long knives for cutting through the grain fields and equipment for making knots. They hang on direction hooks, glittering through the light.

The window, however, makes everything open.

I managed to sneak in and out of the bloodbath without facing any trouble. I grabbed a backpack, found a rock, threw it angrily and ran as fast as I could for the nearest staircase or escalator, jumping over the crushed head of the boy from Twelve.

The reflective barrier works wonders. You can't see it down there, but from up here, everyone is on show.

There's no time to sit and rest, because just across the gap, a tribute has found you and sneakily making their way around to bury a knife in your head or slit your throat.

I climbed a staircase, and then another, before another, reaching three floors up from the actual Cornucopia. I know for a fact that there must at least be another floor, since next to the shop I'm in is another cement staircase, leading up into the unknown. I'm brave, not stupid.

Scythe in hand, I depart the shop, pressing my back against the cool glass and sliding along. I can't hear no footsteps against the tiles, nor see anyone, so feeling safe, I laugh a little.

This is _more_ than perfect!

I've never seen anything quite like this in my life. And my oh my, it would be the perfect place to start ticking names off of my list bit by bit.

First, though, is Koel.

Another laugh bubbles at the thought of him, running around hopelessly, possibly even one of the dead, though I kind of believe he survived. I prefer that. I want to be the one to take him down. I know five are dead, and two of those are the boy from Twelve and the girl from Ten. They were the only ones I actually saw before sprinting it out of there. The boy's head crushed by the guy from One, the girl smashed with a rock by her from Two.

I take up the flight of stairs, and whilst it could be a stupid idea and I was against it minutes ago, it's the only way to find Koel.

Like a predator, I need to find him. Hunt him down and then steal the blood from his body. Then, after that, more and more tributes on my list from the shared hovercraft. One from each district. It's all too perfect.

But as I reach the top of the stairs, I see the boy from Eight, exiting a shop with a mighty thin sword locked in his hand.

He notices me, but rather than attack and seeing me raise my scythe, he smiles rather smoothly.

"No need to attack me," Eight steps forward, lowering his sword to his side. "I'm not a threat. I'm on my own, much like you. These other tributes just don't seem to understand me quite right."

I understand that feeling. "I feel like everyone is against me."

He chuckles a little, and like his smile, it's smooth and fluent. "Technically, everyone _is_ against you. Only one winner remember. I was thinking that, until it dwindles down, that we pair up and pick the others off. Two is far more threatening then one."

I find my head nodding along, almost in a trance at how well he actually says everything. He could commit murder and probably have you believing you deserve it. But that's something to be wary about, too. That's the perfect trait for a backstabber.

"I suppose," I shrug after a while. "Until we get a few. For now, I want to find all the littles. My district partner has to be the first to go. Then, we'll go after yours, okay?"

"My district partner won't last long, I promise," Eight smiles softer this time. "She's not all there, and this will tip her over the edge. Lets just worry about killing your district partner first."

He moves closer, and slowly, I pull down my walls long enough to let him get close. With a smile and nod, he directs me towards a broken escalator on the other side of the gap.

"One more floor. I've _already_ checked. Six in total, including the plaza for the Cornucopia. Your "littles" went up there."

I wait for him to make the first move, but the moment his foot touches the cement step, I comply. He's good enough for now. But his name has joined my list, and the more he pushes it, the higher he will go.

* * *

**Chord Wickers, District Ten Male.**

* * *

I feel like I've been walking for hours on end. I slow down a little, sitting down on one of the escalators between the floors. Everyone will be too busy raiding through shops to even check the actual staircases and that from floor to floor. For now, I can rest.

But as I close my eyes, Sami's face haunts me, the sickening way her head was dented from the blow. It leaked blood, leaving a pool, and worst of all, as I looked at her, she looked innocent with those dead eyes staring straight forward.

It's something that will never escape me.

I promised to save her and I couldn't even do that. I tried to find her, I really did, but I couldn't even see her. She was blocked behind the golden horn, and that pretty much sealed her fate. I ran, I ran so hard, but I wanted to get a backpack so that we had something to use, something I could use to protect us. By the time I fought through the chaos and collected one, to find a simple rock, it was too late.

She was dead.

My eyes whip open as the thought of her emotions, how scared and terrified she was, how she needed me and I wasn't there, washes over me and twists the knife of guilt in my gut. Her family have _lost_ their daughter. Siblings _lost_ their sister. Her life, her innocence, all _ripped_ away. It takes a moment for anything to sink in, when I see the faint glimmer of a white sheet coming towards me. I see the metal container, and instantly know I've got a gift sent to me already.

Already? Just after the bloodbath?

No doubt Sami's age pulled on most of their heartstrings, and then their wallets.

_Now's the perfect time Chord -L_

When I pop open the container, I see a small harmonica, wooden and cheap, but that's fine. I give it a little hum, knowing the perfect tune in Sami's honor, though I only remember the last words. They always stuck out the most to me. And with as much emotion as I can muster, I sing.

_So hush, my child  
Your spirit is freed_  
_You've escaped the lies _  
_The hate, the greed_

_It's for the best _  
_Or so they say _  
_Deliverance shall come _  
_On another day_

It draws to the end, and by the time I sing the last note, I know my voice is shaky. Emotions are a pain sometimes.

But the freedom of the emotions has brought something else in me. Determination. I stand up, wiping away at my eyes harshly before taking a deep breath through my nose. First thing first, find a lasso. I'll treat these tributes like cattle. Round them up, pin them down, slice their throat. If they think it's okay to kill a little girl, then I'll show them it's okay to kill a rabid animal. I quickly run down the escalator, knowing the shop is nearby.

From the corner of my eye, I see the shop I was looking for.

From the other?

The boys from Five and Six, slipping into a shop where the rest of their alliance is hiding out. I know that much by walking past and glimpsing in the window. Sadly, the girl with red hair gives them away too easily, though, she only hid behind a table leg. But I'm not after them. No, they couldn't have killed Sami. The Careers are the most brutal, and so, for them. I promised not to hurt Theo, and there would be no way he would have killed Sami, so it leaves the rest.

The fiery girl from One. Slut from Two. Boy genius from Three. The mysterious girl from Four, and her district partner, the imbecile. I move towards the shop, sliding in and finding what I was looking for, hanging up for a hook quite close to the ground. It's the perfect length, and if I didn't know any better, the exact lasso I use back at home. It could be for all I know. I grab it, pulling out my green belt just an inch to place the lasso through, holding it on. I smile sadly at the thought of looking like some cowboy.

See, Ula was wrong. It _does_ have some use.

* * *

**Jack Ampere, District Five Male.**

* * *

"Jack!" I hear Mirana before I even see her, springing up from her hiding place behind a table leg. She's smiling widely, happily, and I can't understand why. No sane person would in a place like this.

Then, not long after her, Cameron slowly climbs up, a lot better hidden than Mirana. She smiles, looking relieved to see me and Gavan. It was hard to get out the Cornucopia, but we managed. I saw Cameron run from the One girl, but Mirana accidentally scared her enough to give Cameron enough time to escape. Then, all I had to do was find Gavan and get out myself.

For someone who didn't even want to be in an alliance in the first place, I've definitely been dragged into this well and truly.

Cameron's a lot more manipulative than I thought.

She moves through the clutter, before throwing her arms around my neck. I hear Mirana gush in the background and refer to us as some prince and princess she heard in another one of her mom's amazing fables, and I can't help but smile into Cameron's neck.

"I'm glad you're alive." Cameron mumbles.

I hug her back just a bit tighter. "So am I."

"_Stupid_," she pulls away, going back to her more stable, stronger self. "Did you see anything useful we could use, maybe? Any tributes nearby?"

Gavan takes that as his moment to cut in. "I saw some tributes. I saw a lot of tributes. But I think we're safe, kinda, maybe, I don't really remember."

Mirana just giggles, twirling a piece of red hair. "You're _so_ funny sometimes."

Something sparks in my mind, and for some reason, I see me and Cameron as being some sort of mature parent figures for the more younger-minded, unstable Mirana and Gavan, acting as our children. It makes me smile, until I realise that if I go home, all three will have to die. Cameron will have to die. Mirana and Gavan will also lose their life. Then, it hits me, and I pull forth the hatchet that me and Gavan quickly collected from one of the shops.

"Here," I show it to Cameron, who smiles quite wickedly at the silver weapon. "We grabbed that and an actual backpack with food inside."

Gavan steps forward to place the backpack on the table, opening it up to reveal some beef jerky, a bag of dried apples, a water canister and a bowl. Mirana is quick to chirp and pick up the dried apples, opening it up and popping to in her mouth before passing it to Gavan with a pout. As Gavan argues about something with Mirana giggles and prods him, literally, me and Cameron step to the side of the empty shop, only one of few.

"We'll stay here," Cameron is quick to say. "It's safer for all of us. More me, since they both don't look like they could handle it."

"I agree," I nod. "Hey, that's something new. We both agree on something."

"Don't get used to it, Jacky boy," Cameron smirks. "From now on, we'll disagree on almost everything. I'm hungry, though, are you hungry? I'm hungry. Lets have some food."

Cameron swoops up the bag of beef jerky, plopping herself down on the floor as Gavan and Mirana crouch opposite her, though Mirana proceeds to weave herself in and out of the table legs, giggling and laughing and continuing to smile sweetly at Gavan, mocking him in her cute, unstable way. Cameron hands me a piece of the jerky, and smiling, I take a bite.

"I feel like a married couple with children." I say aloud.

Cameron doesn't answer, only nodding, and I get the feeling she knows what I'm thinking too. Three, maybe all four of us, will die. I _couldn't_ kill any of these guys, but how long will it take before one of us falls?

* * *

**Stitch Hill, District Eight Male.**

* * *

Something I've learned so far about this whole arena is that all the floors are identical, the only changes being what the shops hold. Some are baron, empty, nothing but boxes and tables. Others have the most lethal weapons, such as swords and axes. And the others have nothing but survival gear, food, water canisters and bottles, blankets and sleeping bags. I have a funny feeling the nights might becomes cold considering everyone is wearing shorts and a top.

Since when did the Hunger Games become nice and not torturous?

"Which way did you see them go?"

I smile at her. "I never said I _knew_ where they went. I simply suggested I _knew_ they came up here. And, well, it's not like they can climb any higher."

My eyes drift upwards, knowing this is the last floor. Above me is the large glass dome that hangs over us all. The electrified barrier still insists on going up, and somewhere, it connects to the glass. From this distance, you feel so close to it, it's almost like the sun is directly above your heads, sweating down on you.

"Well then, it's about time we start cleaning out the shops and find them."

Fern's voice is angry, all of a sudden. I know she wants to kill him, but she's going to destroy herself at this rate. She should be worried about survival, not revenge. But, as she swings open the first door and gains nothing in response, I see her growing increasingly angry. She looks at me over her shoulder, glaring at me with those burning eyes of hers.

"Don't be so angry, Fern," I smile as sweetly as possible, going over to her and placing my hand on her shoulder. "We'll draw him out if so. It's not like anyone can really fun that far."

"He could still hide," Fern seethes through gritted teeth. "He's sneaky. Don't even underestimate him because he's that good at disappearing from plain view, he could be part chameleon."

I simply soothe her a little, calming her down with my sword in my other hand, twitching. "Yeah, well, the same could be said for us. He can't get away that easily, either. Maybe we should sit back for a while, see if he comes for us instead?"

She sighs.

Yet, she lets me lead her to one of the empty rooms.

She sits down, pressing her back against the cement wall and laying her beautiful scythe on her lap. She looks at me, feigns a smile and gestures me to sit next to her.

"I'm okay," I smile it all away. "I think someone should stand, keep an eye out, sorta thing."

"Suit yourself."

I watch, amazed slightly, as the girl begins to allow sleep to take her, and slowly, she slips into slumber. I wait for a while, sitting down and standing up, practically bored out of my mind. Then, I catch a glimpse of platinum blonde hair, knowing that is Koel's ally, the girl from Three. She walks out from a shop timidly, a backpack strapped over her shoulder and a vibrant bruise on her face. Then, following her is the boy from Eleven, bringing the rear is Koel.

I look to a sleeping Fern, before looking at the littles descend an escalator.

_No_. I won't wake her.

Soon, the glass dome at the top of the arena begins to change colour, going from azure blue to a mix of orange and pink, before finally, black with bright, white stars. The anthem begins to play, and somehow, it rattles throughout the room, causing Fern to jerk awake.

"Any sign?"

I throw another smile at her. "Nope. No sign at all."

She clambers onto her feet. "Okay. Well, you better not be lying to me, Eight. I don't want to make my list any longer now."

The seal appears on the glass, shining and wavering as the first picture, the boy from Four, appears. A Career dead so early on? Somehow, I'm really not surprised. That of course means all the other Careers are alive, then, including the boy from Three. Then, the girl from Six, followed closely by the boy from Seven.

"Shows anyone can die." I say aloud, gaining a weird look from Fern.

Then, the little, terrified girl from Ten, who I knew died, and everyone basically did. It was't hard to miss her brains spewing out on the ground so effortlessly.

But of course, a small, sad and conflicted smile forms on my face. Mirana survived. I don't know whether I'm happy or sad about that. She's nice, crazy, but nice. But she's competition and a huge liability to her allies.

Finally, I know the last death is the little curly-haired boy from Twelve, and when I see his face, I have a flashback of the boy from One slamming his head repeatedly against the concrete step not long after fighting me. I survived and he saw Twelve as his next victim.

"Besides the boy from Seven, that bloodbath was _pathetic_." Fern remarks, coldness laced in her voice.

I just nod and smile and let everything be normal between us. She turns and flashes a wicked grin, and something stirs inside me. I just smile still as she turns around, and in the moment, I pull up my sword, letting the silver flicker underneath the inky light. Without a thought, I drive it into Fern's back and pull out, feeling the crush of her skin and veins in the sword. She cries out in pain, falling to the floor and rolling over.

Her mouths begin to form a word, but I just smile.

_Always smiling_.

"Sorry," I say, raising my boot over her face. "You were the one that said the bloodbath was pathetic. I'm just making up for it."

I slam it down as hard as possible, feeling her bones crunch and crush and her screams, her pathetic, needy screams. Sometime later, as I walk out the door and around the walkway coated in pitch black except for the false moonlight creating some light, I hear her cannon sound.

* * *

**Tauria Copin, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"This is perfect!" I grin from ear to ear, picking up a backpack filled to the brim with food. Apples, beef jerky, a soup in a container and some chunks of rabbit meat.

Zaira, from the other side of the room, grabs another backpack.

"It is," she says softly. "We have _more_ here then I ever would in Eleven."

I feel a pang of guilt, since I do know poverty but probably not like hers. People have always said that the lower districts, Ten, Eleven and Twelve are the most malnourished. Seven is poor, sure, but not as bad as others. We're about average, and that's fine by me.

"Sorry..." I mumble out, watching Zaira eye me curiously. "I just, I feel bad for you, that's all."

Zaira offers a sad slash soft smile that I can barely see. "It's fine."

I nod, grabbing another backpack off the shelf in front of us. There are more shops for food, one shop being emptied isn't exactly going to be a crime. With two backpacks, one over either shoulder, and then Zaira with her backpack, we set off out the shop.

That is until Zaira thrusts back into, knocking me to the floor.

I'm slightly confused, but Zaira closes the door silently and slips to the ground, sneaking across the tiles. I don't get what her problem is until I finally see an array of heads going across the window, illuminated by the moonlight's glow. Careers. No doubt scouting out more victims in the darkness when they're more vulnerable. The shops have no lights, and throughout the whole arena, there is nothing but darkness and the odd speck of light that the moonlight casts.

No-one is silly enough to create a fire in an enclosed space.

Once the Careers go by, Zaira puts herself into a sitting position.

"Looks like we're staying here," she whispers across the gap. "Safer that way."

"Yeah, I get it," I reply. "Don't worry, here is fine."

I lay myself out on the ground, laying on my hands and looking at the stars through the glass. Zaira curls up into a tight ball, gripping to the backpack. I quietly pull out an apple, take a bite, then put it down on the floor next to me.

For something so sinister, this isn't so bad. It reminds me of camping. Camping outside in the woods, watching the stars and always being careful of the wild animals outside. The only difference is the wild animals are just Careers.

"T-Thanks for being my ally." Zaira suddenly speaks up.

I know she means the girl from One and my help. I didn't do anything but save her. Allies do that, and she should know that. "It was no problem. We're allies, we look out for each other."

"I know," Zaira responds. "Just... Thanks. You _don't_ know how much it means to me."

Yet, somehow, I do. In fact, knowing Timber is dead did hit me hard. He never wanted to be allies, and I respected that, but that doesn't mean it didn't scare me to be on my own. Then, to know he died when he got one of the highest scores for the non-Careers? It's scary, because it shows they meant nothing.

You could still die.

No-one is a sure Victor until the other twenty-three are dead. That doesn't settle me and as the stars and moon continue to dance, I feel more uneasy than I've ever this whole experience.

* * *

**Garnet Stone, District One Male.**

* * *

"I give up," Astor throws her hands down and slaps her thighs, showing off those wonderful legs of hers. "We need to camp or something. I'm getting tired and frankly, we suck for letting them get away this easily."

No-one argues her, not even Delaney, and we all know that Delaney semi-despises both Astor and Lorelei for being pretty, girls and on the same team as her. Theo just nods, taking his brand-new morningstar he collected and switching hands.

"We'll stay in a weapon shop, though. It's safer."

And once again, no-one argues. With my arms crossed and holding onto my abs, I look around to see the boy from Three, the only one truly out of place at the moment. The only one that, in a sense, doesn't belong here. Waverly brought him into the alliance. Now Waverly is dead, doesn't that mean he should go, too?

"Which shop?" Astor asks.

"Swords," Theo says without even looking. "Everyone knows how to use one of those."

"Speak for yourself." Astor grumbles under her breath, but yet, she begins to move as we head to a sword shop, the most common here apparently, only down a few steps. Astor, Theo and Delaney walk more up front, me and Lorelei in the middle, though she makes it clear to stay on the other side of the walkway, and Gage bringing up the rear. We slow down as Theo opens the door, smiling surely as she lets both the girls go in first, before the rest of us.

"In here is _perfect_."

I smile at Delaney's sadistic words, looking at copies of my perfect weapons hanging on the walls, over our heads, within our reach.

Theo is the first to sit down, laying on the tiled floor and stretching out. No worries about someone attacking us, because who would be stupid to do that?

Astor moves on her own, crouching against the wall and preparing sleep, whilst Delaney makes a show of curling up like a cat at Theo's side, showing her protectiveness. I hear Lorelei's hidden but defiant snort as she lies down, a spear she collected right next to her, as Gage looks uncertain.

"Sleep where you want," I smile sickly at him. "Pick your spot."

"Don't be mean, Garnet," Delaney giggles. "We don't want to _scare_ him to death."

"You won't," Gage suddenly comes back with a cocky grin. "I'm not fragile or anything."

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart."

Finally, being courageous, Gage lies down only a few inches away from Lorelei, who already looks miserable and standoffish. My legs are tired, aching, and so I sit down and lean myself against a wall much like Astor, not far from her. Straight in front of me is Theo and Delaney, just off to the side being Lorelei and Gage. My eyelids get heavy quickly, and finally, I fall into slumber.

Nothing interesting happens in my dream.

But over and over again, I hear the screams of the boy from Twelve, his face of pure horror as his head splits apart with each slam against the step. But as he continues to scream, it gets louder and louder, and suddenly, I jerk awake with a bit of sweat on my forehead.

I wipe it away, looking at everyone else fast asleep.

That is until I see Lorelei shift. Her eyes, a piercing blue and cold, snaps open. I quickly squint my eyes shut, feigning sleep, watching as Lorelei shuffles for something in her shorts. It doesn't take long for her to produce a knife, large and curved. She holds it, spinning it around as she leans over to Gage, closer to me. I watch her hair spill in front of her face, and stealthily, she clamps her hand over Gage's mouth.

His eyelids snap open, but it's too late.

Lorelei places the knife against his throat, and as sharp and quick as possible, slices his neck. She holds her hand down harder on his mouth, muffling his screams and cries of pain, the gurgling of his blood drowning him. With a smile, she wipes her hand on his top, climbing to her feet and collecting her spear. She takes one look around at us all, and instinctively, I subtlety grip onto my sword, prepared for battle.

But she doesn't attack.

She simply walks out the door silently, fading into the night as Gage's cannon sounds.

No-one wakes up, though. Heavy sleepers clearly.

And like that, the boy out of place is dead, and the Careers are already down by the whole of Four and our little extra. I don't blame Lorelei. I hated him too. Just wish I could have done it, instead.

* * *

**Round And Round by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Fern Bracken, District Nine.**

**Gage Anton, District Three.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**I would love to hear some feedback, rather then just your votes. I take pride in my work, and anything you say about it, I'll appreciate it more than just your votes! Please!**

* * *

**I think every tribute has been mentioned... If they haven't... Oops. :) If you want to, go over and submit a tribute to KnockingBells (Koel's) SYOT! I personally would love it if you did!**

**This is where some of you will stop appearing and leave. So, just to let you all know, you've been an amazing bunch and these have been an amazing set of tributes! **


	10. Pumped Up Kicks

**Pumped Up Kicks.**_  
_

_You better run, better run, outrun my gun._

* * *

**Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.**

* * *

I blink a few times, stretching my limbs as I climb up. By the door, Koel is curled up like a cat, sound asleep. Alto, on the other hand, is alert and watching out the window with wide eyes.

"Is there someone out there?" I grumble a little, but quickly remember that no, that's bad to do that. I sit up, straightening my back and repeating myself properly. "Is there someone out there?"

"You _might_ want to look at this."

I cross the small shop, peering out the window. I can't even believe it. Dropping down from the false sky are snowflakes. Crisp and neat, fluttering down. I've seen snow before, sure, but this seems almost too beautiful to be true. Alto just smiles sadly at the sight.

"Snow!"

I jump, clutching my heart as Koel grins.

"When did you get up?" I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders, smiling. "Sorry to scare you. I just, I heard you guys talking and that kind of woke me up. Addi, why is it snowing?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's an illusion or trick? It could be real, even, I just don't know."

He opens his mouth again, but Alto just lays his hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. Koel relents, sighing as he draws his large, curved knife forward, swinging it around in front of him, probably pretending to attack someone or something. He probably doesn't even realise that he might actually have to use it and not just attack imaginary things.

He moves away a little, too occupied with his game, and I smile as I sit down, Alto accompanying me.

"So you got everything you need?"

I nod and offer another soft smile. "Yeah. Well, yeah, everything is _ready_ to go."

"Are you going to do it now?"

I look at his knotted eyebrows and I can't help but beam at him. "Not yet, no, but when the time is right. You're lucky. You don't have a district partner that begs for your blood like mine and Koel."

He looks confused, his dark eyes definitely crossing as he stares at me hard.

"Gage is determined I die, I don't know why, but he does. Koel has made it clear that he somehow made an enemy of his district partner, the scary looking one, and now _she_ wants _him_ dead. You seem to be the only one who actually has a district partner not psychopathic in the slightest."

"Two cannons have sounded since then, it could be them for all you know."

I shrug. "You never know."

I go back to my orange backpack, frowning at how obvious it really is. In a place where everything is grey and white, glass and cement, an orange backpack stands out the most. That and our little coloured belts. Mine is bright yellow, almost neon, another little thing that makes me stand out against the bland scenery. Alto's is a dark brown, whilst Koel's is lime green. More colours that could _easily_ be seen from a distance.

Is that the point of all this? To give us a plain arena, then hand us bright coloured accessories to stand out, but not too much that it's boring?

"I see someone..." Koel drawls in a sing-song voice.

We stand up, crouching by the large window that leaves us vulnerable. Koel was right. And across the gap, on the other side and taking something from the shop is the girl from Twelve, Ashton's district partner.

"Isn't that Ashton's friend?" Alto asks.

"I think the words he actually used was "that girl who has as much personality as a stone", yeah, that's what he said." Koel smiles.

"Charming."

It's so like Ashton, to be blunt and rude, and when I look at Koel, I can see the fondness swimming in his eyes. Him and Ashton were close, much like me and Alto. More like two individual pairs partnered up to make a quartet.

In her hand is a large, sharp axe that she hugs tight to her body, before taking down the flight of stairs as quick as her legs could carry her. Surprisingly, being on the top floor, no-one has found us. It doesn't seem like a dangerous arena, so the obvious choice would be to take up the chance to parade us in bright colour. Besides, now with snow, we're going to stand out even more than necessary.

"Should we move?" Alto asks, a little edge in his voice.

I quickly look to the snow still drifting down, but luckily, nothing is touching the walkways. Since it's basically a tube designed arena, the snow can only flutter down and then pack itself down in the plaza around the Cornucopia. Not that there is anything down there worth looking for.

"Not yet," I mumble, still fixed by the snow and the idea of a glass roof. "Not yet."

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

"Mirana, it's _not_ safe out there!" I call, but to no avail.

Mirana swings the door open, grinning from ear to ear at the possibility of snow. She said that back in Eight, they never got snow. Not throughout the year, and especially in Winter. It just never happened. She always wanted to touch it. Especially after hearing of another fable from her mother about a talking snowman that came to life when you placed a carrot onto his round face.

Jack pounces to his feet to run after her, acting like the father he so sarcastically said he felt. He left his hatchet behind, and bravely, I grab it and Gavan's sleeve, dragging him along with us.

I whip my head back and forth, seeing which way they went. I see a flash of red disappear down an escalator, before those curly locks I've grown quite fond of make chase.

"Why do I have to go?" I spin around, hatchet in hand, and instantly, Gavan flinches. "Keep that thing away from me!"

I sigh, lowering it. "We're an alliance. We stick together. If Mirana is going to play in the snow, we are going to play in the snow, too."

"I don't even _like_ snow."

"Well, neither do I, but we have to sacrifice some things eventually," I grunt, pulling on his sleeve once more and dragging him with us. "So quit being an irrational baby and comply, okay?"

We sprint across the walkway, and it's surprising, because I completely forgot about being all out in the open and with tributes around every corner. I guess, in a sense, the tributes just don't feel like killing each other this year. I feel sick at the thought of the Gamemakers picking us off instead. Their rocks were a cheap trick, and now, more could come of it unless we step our game up.

Down the escalator we go, but luckily, no further.

We stop in front of Jack, hands wrapped around Mirana's waist to hold in her place as she kicks and hollers, giggling in between. He attempts to shush her, but like a baby, Mirana only grows louder.

"Jack, she's not a little child, you don't have to hold her." I say, slightly jealous.

"You tell her to stop kicking then." Jack shoots back.

"You're doing it wrong, again, that's why," I say, letting go of Gavan's sleeve and prying Jack's hands from Mirana, before clamping mine on her shoulders. "See, like this. That way, she can kick, but her arms are useless."

"I just want to play in the snow," Mirana pouts. "Gavan, come play in the snow with me! We can make your hair even whiter!"

Gavan glares back and I smile as Jack stands next to him. Mirana continues to pout, and for some reason, I relent.

"We'll go down, fine," I say, putting my hand up when Mirana's about to scream. "But for a little while and be quiet. You can play and then we go before someone kills us."

"Cameron, this is a death match, not someone's house!" Jack counters.

"I know that," I roll my eyes. "But she's _never_ seen snow and it might not be here for long. We'll be fine. Besides, it's early in the morning, the dumbass Careers will still be snoring their pretty little heads off as we speak."

Jack doesn't argue against that, and sighing, him and Gavan walk in time with us as we glide down to the plaza. Each set of stairs, Jack looks first holding his hatchet, before we take down them and then press ourselves against the ground, trying our hardest to avade being caught. The whole time, though, Gavan makes a point that his hair _isn't_ white at all, it's just an unusual shade of blonde. Of course, he gets slightly defensive when Mirana pokes fun at it again and fires back his own odd colour hair jokes.

As we hit the last step to the plaza, Jack cranes his head around the corner and looks.

"Coast is clear," he states, trying to seem more masculine. "Mirana, five minutes, now go."

Mirana giggles and claps, kissing her little pocket watch one more time before she sprints out into the plaza to play. We're lucky, I know that much, since we worked out that the barrier doesn't allow things to pass through it. That of course means that any tribute that wants to fight will have to come down here, unfortunately, but that'll give us enough time to sprint up the steps as quick as possible.

Soon enough, Gavan gives in, getting up from his seat on the step and carefully tredding into the snow, enough to reach our ankles at the very most.

"Now I feel like a parent more than ever." Jack grumbles into his hand.

"What makes you say that?" I reply sarcastically. "The fact that both our adopted children have strange hair, tease each other like siblings and then we seem to be the only mature ones? Nah, I don't see it _one bit_."

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated."

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated," I mock in a baby voice. "Cheer up a little. You said it yourself, one winner only. Might as well enjoy what little time we do have left on this stinking planet."

I curl my fingers around a mound of snow, bringing it up and smashing it into Jack's face. He gasps, shocked, whilst I just laugh and point, running away from him, looking over my shoulder to see him running straight after me. More and more like a family by the second.

* * *

**Koel Spelt, District Nine Male.**

* * *

As Addilyn and Alto begin to mumble quietly over the bag of wires Addilyn collected, saying it was "gravely" important she had them, I get up and go to the door. My hand touches the handle, and before I know it, I shout a little message to them before sprinting out. I'm going to come back. Of course I will. Someone as young as me would be meat out there to everyone else. Ashton proved that by ignoring orders and getting himself killed.

Yet, I still _miss_ him.

No matter how you look at it, Addilyn and Alto are close whilst me and Ashton were close. We had the same sense of humor, the practical jokes and immaturity to everything that we was expected to act maturely to. Addilyn and Alto have that same quiet, smart vibe to them that is just plain boring, to be honest.

I mean, I've always had friends. I've always been popular, the kid able to drift from group to group and befriend every single person around me. I got on with people like Addilyn and Alto. I just didn't favor them over more fun, naughty kids like Ashton.

Why did he have to be so stupid?

I walk along the walkway, holding my large knife in my hand.

I never really used a knife before. I didn't have the need too. Back in Nine, I did nothing but collect the wheat. Collect the wheat all day long, and most people would find that boring. Not me, really. The wheat provided the perfect cover to hide, wait low, and then pounce out onto someone without them knowing. Well, I used too, till I got in trouble a lot. Then I just decided to be a ghost and haunt the people as they moved throughout.

Nine was a _good_ life.

Sometimes, it's hard to believe that Fern even comes from the same, mellow district as myself.

I stop, focusing on the snow down below, or more importantly, a small group of about four shadows that seem to run and play like they have all the care in the world, contrasting against the white blanket. If this stupid barrier wasn't up, Alto could maybe shoot a few arrows down there and pick one of them off, possibly.

It's a nice idea that isn't possible.

I raise my knife, testing my curiosity as I place the tip against the electrified barrier. A small zap crackles along the metal, but doesn't do no real damage. I force the knife in a little more, and to my surprise, the whole metal blade becomes an angry red, hot from the electricity.

Happiness swells into my chest.

Slipping my hot knife into the pocket of my shorts, crying out a little since I didn't expect it to be that hot, I run along the walkway and push the door open with such force, it bounces off the wall and scares the life out of Addilyn.

"Koel," she shakes her head. "Quiet, please."

"You'll never guess what I found," I grin, knowing that hey, I can be just as smart. "You know you said that the barrier was electrified?"

She nods her head.

"Well, I put my knife against it and I got a crackle of electricity to shoot out. But that's not all. Pushing it in further, I got the whole metal part of my knife to become red hot!"

Addilyn smiles wryly, opening her backpack full and spilling the contents onto the floor. She picks up a certain wire the colour of blue, handing it out to show me.

"This here is a conductor, Koel. It takes electricity from one unit to another. Go and take this to the barrier, one side against it and the other against your knife on the floor. Tell me what happens, okay?" Addilyn smiles again, placing it in my hand and curling my fingers over it. "Remember, just tell me what happens. Nothing else. And please, _please_, don't hold the knife when you do it."

I nod hurriedly, rushing out the room.

I can be _just_ as smart if I wanted too.

I just prefer being a child to being a genius anyday.

* * *

**Delaney Robb, District Two Female.**

* * *

I sit there, arms crossed over my chest, smiling as the night unfolds. Before us lies Gage's body, throat ripped open harshly from a blade, his blood dried and cracking just near our feet. He's pale, deathly pale, a shade of deep blue over his lips.

"I'm guessing Lorelei killed him then." Astor smirks.

"I know she killed him," Garnet replies. "I watched her. She placed a hand over his mouth, dragged the blade across his throat, then collected her spear and walked off. I'm guessing she doesn't play well with others."

"Or she has the right brains to not bother with an alliance," I cut in, gaining suspicious looks from both Astor and Garnet. "Well, if you actually think about it, Four aren't proper Careers anyway. Everyone knows you should fear One and Two, the best of the best. Four are usually just the little pieces that gather to make us look _slightly_ more threatening."

"Yet, we took him on board." Garnet counters, jerking a finger at Gage's body.

"At Waverly's request," Theo sighs. "And Delaney, whilst you might think that, the rules are clear from what the mentors mentioned. One, Two and Four equal six deadly Careers, no matter what. We took him on because Waverly wouldn't stop whining about it."

"Yeah, look how _that_ turned out."

"Yeah, we get it. Gage killed Waverly and he was some genius because none of us would have expected him to be such a calculating little ass," Garnet rolls his eyes, and wow, I'm actually surprised he knew a big word like calculating. "Clearly, Lorelei knew, since she killed him there and then."

"Someone's sounding high and mighty."

"What's that suppose to mean?" he snaps his glare towards me.

"I'm just saying, you seem to be shocked that she could stoop so low to kill someone whilst they were asleep. I'm sorry, but didn't you pulverize a little boy's head against a step?"

Garnet growls under his breath, his hand twitching around the handle of his sword. "Shut up."

I raise my hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just pointing out facts. We're better off as a four, anyway. I never liked Lorelei that much. Too quiet and mysterious."

"Compared to you?" Theo smirks, raising his eyebrow playfully.

"Exactly," I smile, plucking a sword from the shelf. Just a bigger knife, really. "So, come on _bitches_, lets go find us some tributes to murder. Maybe even bump into little miss traitor."

One by one, we file out the room, scanning across the area for anyone interesting. For such a unique and compacted arena, you'd think you'd constantly bump into tribute after tribute. Yet, most seem to be occupied with hiding out. Since when did anyone win by just hiding?

We take down the nearest flight of stairs, and just as we make it to the bottom, I watch the boy from Ten disappear upwards. I look to Theo, the only other person who must have noticed him, but he just shakes his head. Garnet and Astor walk up front, and we trail behind.

"You can't let him get away forever," I growl through gritted teeth. "Sooner or later, he'll have to die."

Theo keeps a stony expression. "And later, he will. For now, he won't. Got it? It's bad enough _you_ murdered his district partner for no reason when she wasn't a threat, let alone wiping out the district before they've had a shot at it."

"Don't go soft on me now, Theo," I poke him in the chest. "We agreed to do this together. You and me, final two, a battle to smite all the others."

"And we'll stick to that," Theo cracks a small smile. "Because sooner or later, _you'll_ have to die, too."

He doesn't mean it. That's the advantage I have over our friendship. Theo treats me like a little sister, a best friend, and sure, he's like an older brother and sure, he's my best and only friend. But that's the advantage I have. We couldn't kill me. He's just not that type of murderer.

Which makes killing him slightly painful, but relatively easy.

* * *

**Anastasia Burne, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I take deep, heavy breaths, steadying myself against the wall of the small blanket shop I found. I tug one around me tighter, trying so hard not to basically lose all will so soon. I could have been killed with the snap of her fingers. I watched, so mortified and scared as that girl from Four snapped her neck. Just snapped it like it was nothing.

Like Karli was _nothing_.

I never appreciated our alliance. I mean, I didn't want one really, but Karli got attached to me pretty quickly and it went downhill from there.

She shouldn't have came back for me. I wouldn't have for her. I would have left her, as harsh as it sounds, and just let her fate be sealed by some nasty Career. That's how _heartless_ I am and how whole she is.

My heart rate quickens, my hands practically trembling.

I knew death was abundant. Of course, everyone knew that, that's why the Games were so feared. But to see it so up close... It makes it more real then you could ever prepare yourself for. Death happens in Twelve all the time. Miners die, people from the Seam die, even those in the merchant's area still die every now and then. I've never seen it, though. I never watched and studied someone. Yet, my eyes wouldn't look away. They were glued, fixed on Karli's brown orbs, watching the colour drain, the life just slip away.

I snap myself back, hearing footsteps just outside.

My hand twitches for the axe I took, standing up shakily.

I move towards the door, letting the blanket pool around my feet before I step over it. Just outside, the boy from Ten skips past, a funny looking lasso tucked into his belt. A part of me doesn't want to fight him. He's larger, and that would be plain stupid. But my hand thinks otherwise, gripping the handle and yanking the door open.

Ten spins around, shocked, but he doesn't look like he's ready to attack me just yet.

He eyes the axe gripped in my violently shaking hand, but he doesn't look scared. _Why would he?_

"You don't have to attack me," Ten smiles a faint, sad smile. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I look at his lasso, something not exactly that intimidating, though being a district that involves farming, he could be an expert at it. His training score, the number 8, flashes across my mind. I grip my axe tighter, raising it a little.

He does that sad puppy smile once more, but begins to step back.

"I-I-I will k-kill you," I stammer out.

But he raises a hand, not letting his smile fade one moment. "No, no you won't. And _I_ won't kill you, either. Though I do suggest you go back to hiding. Pretty sure the Careers are above us, and they might head down soon."

"Y-You're ly-"

"I'm not," Ten shakes his head. "But take it or leave it. I wouldn't hurt someone so vulnerable. Them, on the other hand, would."

He doesn't have to convince me otherwise. The escalator near us begins to squeak as pressure builds on it, more than one person coming down. I whip my head around in their direction, before looking back, noticing Ten has vanished. I gulp down my nerves, going back to my little snug. Safety is more important than bravery.

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

We reach the next floor, One up front and Two behind. I'm suppose to be the leader, leading our band of murderers to the finals where we face off and kill each other, and someone stands on top. That's how it always happens, according to Brutus. Careers make it to the final and from there, we kill and one survives.

Yet, he forgot to point out that besides the obvious Career districts, others win too. Besides Twelve, everyone has at least two Victors from their district. Brutus obviously forgot to mention that, lying to trainees and letting them believe we have better odds then everyone else.

We halt, Garnet up front with a hand raised in the air.

"We're not _military_ or anything, Garnet, you look like an idiot." Astor laughs.

"Please," Garnet looks at her and then away. He must have winked or something, since Astor pulls a face of disgust. "Me in a proper uniform would be beyond the best thing possible in the world. You're in denial."

"Oh my, you have _more_ big words underneath your sleeve."

"What is it?" Delaney deadpans. "I just want to kill someone."

His hand turns into a pointed finger, facing the barrier, and slowly we edge ourselves closer. Down below, it's hard to not miss the amount of snow that piles and piles, no doubt leaning up the sides of the Cornucopia. But, I know where Garnet is pointing too. Four figures, I can't tell who from this height, but I definitely know what's going through his and probably Delaney's minds. Astor wouldn't be bothered too much, but I'm _sure_ she'd appreciate a kill on her list eventually.

"First one who gets a kill can have the first sleep tonight," Delaney grins, looking like a more pretty shark, teeth almost drooling from the excitement. "Whoever _doesn't_ get a kill can stay up all night."

Everyone looks at each other, but Delaney is off, dragging her sword with her and running with powered legs for the nearest set of steps or broken escalator. Garnet growls, before speeding off, whilst Astor looks at me.

Her short smile says everything, but she relents and begins running too. I'm probably the only one who doesn't, but instead, I jog at a steady pace. Killing doesn't bother me, but damn, I need to keep them from being so stupid. It could be a trap.

I take down the steps two at a time, landing on the first floor and seeing Garnet, Delaney and Astor running along the walkway. Delaney shouts and hollers gleefully, cheering at the excitement, letting _every_ other tribute nearby that we're around. But she doesn't care as she pumps her free fist, hitting the final set of steps. Astor and Garnet speed up a little, and I find myself doing the same for the sake of staying with them.

I bound down the stairs after them, watching Delaney hit the snow first.

She chants again, and by the time I've noticed, the pair turns out to be the crazies from Eight and Six. Their alliance, the pair from Five, must be nearby. Closest to us is the girl with red hair, who makes a squeaking sound as she attempts to run across the snow. Delaney sprints across, much faster, managing to tackle her down to the cold flooring. The boy from Six runs over, cheeks flushed from the cold, just as Garnet runs in and delivers a kick to his stomach, knocking him to the floor.

Astor crosses her arms, deciding against it.

I watch from the sidelines as Garnet boots the boy from Six, who groans loudly. The pair from Five runs around the corner, noticing us.

The girl swears, running in and throwing herself full on at Delaney, knocking her off Eight who she had at her mercy.

They tumble in the snow for a while, slapping each other, screaming and pulling each others hair, whilst Garnet begins to tussle with the boys from Five and Six, each delivering blows. Garnet sends a closed fist at Six's jaw, sending him tumbling to the floor. He picks himself up quickly, kicking snow as he scrambles away as Five swings his hatchet at Garnet.

I don't move. I look to Astor, who shrugs her shoulders and plops herself down on the step.

My eyes move to Delaney and Garnet's forgotten swords on the snow. It would be easy, I suppose, but I don't do easy. I do challenges and hardship.

Five manages to get away from Delaney enough to grab Eight's wrist and begin to yank her backwards to run. Delaney staggers to her feet, surprisingly tired from her fight with Five, as the male partner stands back and treads away to Six who waits near the steps.

They begin to run for him.

Three of them, all together.

But Garnet grabs his sword and runs after them, determined.

I look at Five, the pair of them holding hands whilst the girl tugs Eight like a little child. But the boy trips in the snow, falling. He loses his grip on his partners, but they stop, just as Garnet spears his sword through Five's back. He groans, hurt, blood seeping into the white blanket beneath him. Garnet rips the sword back out, splashes off Five's ruby blood spraying over the girl and Eight's faces, so close to their partner's slowly dying body.

Eight screams hysterically as Five drags her away swiftly, the droplets of blood on her face identical to her hair colour.

Garnet does nothing but laugh as the male from Five's cannon rockets throughout the concrete arena.

"That was _entertaining_," Astor mumbles. "I could have done better, though."

My eyes are fixed on the alliance of now three as they disappear up the stairs, and then, Five's body surrounded by the wet blood that grows bigger and bigger.

* * *

**Pumped Up Kicks by Foster The People.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Jack Ampere, District Five.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**As you'll notice, something is missing. I've decided to abolish the pointing system. Frankly, I feel as if you guys feel like you _have _vote for tributes. I'm sorry if you felt that way. I've much rather just hear your opinions on what happened, what you liked and things like that, rather than you guys stressing out over votes.**

**Since I do decide the order, I'll leave it at that. All points collected will still influence me, though.**

**I would still greatly appreciate reviews, so that I know you are reading. If you don't want to review, then why create a character and not watch them? I'll take all of this into account when deciding on kills, mind you.**

**You're free to do what you want. **

* * *

**I'm starting a new SYOT, though it won't start until Child's Play is finished and Glasshouse is down a little more. Blood Thicker Than Water is a Quarter Quell, an extension of canon, and frankly, something I'm super excited for. :p**

**If you want to apply, go to the story and fill the form out (which is slightly altered) and submit like you did for Glasshouse through PM! :)**


	11. Shake It Out

**Shake It Out.**

_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope, it__'s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat._

* * *

**Mirana Capulet, District Eight Female.**

* * *

Cameron continues to tug and tug on my hand, leading me up flight upon flight of stairs. Every now and then, I stumble, snagging my foot on a concrete step, but Cameron's iron grip keeps me up and moving along. Somewhere up front, Gavan is still running, and if I didn't know any better, I swear I could hear him crying or sobbing.

I feel to cry, too.

I can feel the small, warm droplets of Jack's blood on my face and the thought of that just makes me want to scream until my lungs burst. I can feel the ribbon of terror swirling in my throat, dancing like some ballerina. Without warning, it bubbles and burns and finally, it pelts from my throat, an awful, piercing scream.

Cameron is quick to let go and clamp her hands over her ears.

"Mirana!" I hear her voice muffled, but my eyes are closed, the scream still coming out like a never ending river.

Suddenly, a hand slams over my mouth, cutting it off. Her eyes find mine, but it's not the same Cameron as before. They're warm, still comforting, but ultimately conflicted. Jack meant a lot to her, as much as she would deny it if someone was to mention it to her. Tears begin to roll down my face, and Cameron makes a confusing, half-smile and half-frown, then before I know it, a silent tear lols down her cheek.

"I know Mirana, I know," Cameron soothes. "B-But we need to keep moving. I don't know where Gavan has gone, but we need to keep moving, otherwise we'll never get away."

"He's gone." I whisper back.

I feel her arms embrace me tightly, wrapping me up in the warmth, much similar to my mother when I had nightmares over the stories and fables she would tell me. Each night I was plagued by the same nightmare; a troll, large in size and blood dripping from his teeth, jumping up from underneath a bridge, ready to eat me as I desperately crossed to get to my mother, who every time, seemed to distance herself further and further back, and the feat and reality of me crossing became near impossible.

She pulls away, forcing a sad smile on her face.

"Let's go find Gavan," Cameron decides. "I'm sure he's not ready to be on his own yet."

She leads me around the curve of the walkway, until my eyes catch the sight of the middle, protected by the shining barrier. Small droplets of water spray it.

"It's raining," I say quietly.

Cameron makes a quick look, but no doubt the thought of Jack's body down below puts her off of really seeing what it is like. I watch mindlessly as the rain continues to drizzle down softly, soaking and melting the snow down below we previously played in. A lump of snow rolls off my shorts, onto my legs and then into my boot. I shiver at the coldness, but continue to smile softly at the rain.

Maybe Jack's death wasn't a bad thing. Maybe he's much safer, now.

I giggle to myself as Cameron leads us up one of the escalators, pushing back strands of damp, red hair that fall in front of my face.

He's safe now.

He's _free_.

Like a bird released from his cage.

Maybe I'll join him.

Maybe I won't.

Another giggle comes out, but I don't care. I don't care, because as long as it's raining, the world seems so far away, I can't imagine the pain and horror encased within this paradise. I can't imagine my death, or Cameron's and Gavan's, or the little kids or Stitch's or the Careers. I can't imagine anything, because as long as it's raining, I'm okay. I'm okay, mother, I'll _always_ be okay.

* * *

**Anastasia Burne, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I remember a lot of things about my life before the Games. I remember the place I grew up in, the Seam, a poor place for all the poor people in Twelve. My mother Lucinda died when I was only ten; five years ago. Pneumonia, the local doctor said. It wasn't even something that went like that, in the snap of your fingers. It was painful and tiring, many nights of no sleep and constant thrashing from her bedroom.

It broke the family apart.

My dad got extra shifts in the mines to try and help us survive. Without mom working, things became a lot harder, and soon enough, my oldest brother Korwin began working in the mines, no matter how much he hated the idea of it, and whilst they worked, I looked after my younger siblings, Aaron and Leo. Became their surrogate mother and made sure they had enough to eat and done their schoolwork.

Just thinking of them brings me to tears.

When I sat there in the Justice Building, my broter wanted to know why my name, apparently so few in the bowl, was chosen.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I had secretly been taking out extra tesserae to help feed us all. Korwin was never the smartest in the district.

I wipe away the tears spreading down my cheeks angrily, standing up with the axe still close to my chest, every time I breath a little too hard, I can feel the tip of the metal digging into my flesh. I want to go home. Everyone says that, but no-one understands how much I desperately need too. Dad is suffering from bronchitis, Korwin is as capable as a mule to look after the family, and Aaron and Leo are only nine.

Without me, my family would literally tear at the seams.

Without me, they don't have as much chance as they would with me.

I sigh a little hard, pulling the axe out and stepping out the door. I whip my head around, looking for someone, but the only person I can see is the boy from Eight, steathily dropping himself into a shop across the gap. Decision hits my mind, and aiming my axe, I begin to walk around.

I'm not going home unless I fight. Unless I kill.

Eight will have to be my first victim, unfortunately.

I stride across the tiled walkway, not even hearing the pounding footsteps behind me until I'm too late.

Something smacks into the back of my head, maybe a fist or hand, and before I know it, I go sprawling to the floor with a thud, my axe skidding into the distance... Just out of my reach. That sinking feeling like at the reaping comes on, just as I feel a hand spin me over, making me come face to face with the witch from Two.

"I told you I'd find you." Two sneers darkly.

I thrash and attempt to fight her, and in my struggle, I notice her allies; the boy from One with a mask of bloodlust, the girl from One, arms folded and looking uninterested and the boy from Two, watching with sickening eyes.

I see a flash of silver before I feel the burning, rough sensation of it cutting along the base of my neck teasingly.

"Now, I'll _enjoy_ it," Two whispers, continuing the path of her knife. "I'll enjoy _every_ little scream and holler you do. Every little squirm and thrash as you so pathetically try to escape."

The knife travels down further, cutting all the top of my chest, down between my breast and cutting the top of my top open.

"Delaney, just hurry up with it," I hear one of the boys say, probably Two, since it's more masculine. "We need to go and find others."

"More like Lorelei." Another male voice.

"Yeah, we all know you want to fuck her, not kill her, so shut up Garnet." the female speaks up.

All the time they argue between themselves, I'm left crying and thrashing pathetically underneath the dead weight of the girl from Two, Delaney. But I know that every time I cry a little, each and every little whimper, it's only feeding her murderous desire to finish my life. The knife comes up to my eye level, hovering over my eyebrow, teasing my eyelashes.

I hear one of the boys complain, but then someone else makes a gasping sound.

I don't have much time to register anything. The knife comes flying down with deathly speed, piercing through my eyeball. But as pain and soon comfort floods over me, I see an arrow find Delaney's shoulder, body falling off of me as the cannon, _my_ cannon, sounds.

* * *

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

It takes a little while to even register the fact that I shot an arrow at Two. I'm not a perfect aim, no-one really is, but I definitely managed to hit her. I watch her body fall over, but it's too late. The knife is already buried in Twelve's eyeball and her cannon has already sounded. It all seems a blur, but as Addilyn stands behind me almost perfectly silent, I shoot another arrow at Two on the floor.

This time, however, I don't miss.

It springs into her throat, and she gasps, begging for air as blood pours from her lips.

The Careers are instantly on the move, but her district partner, the giant from Two, stops to hold onto his quivering, rapidly bleeding partner. The pair from One, however, make chase.

Alto, you need to run. They're coming right now. Alto, run. Run!

I snap out my daze in time to run after Addilyn and Koel, already running and no doubt regretting the idea of leaving the safety of our top floor. Now, we have two Careers chasing us. Koel's the first up the escalator, followed by Koel, but as I make the turn and climb the first little slope, I feel someone's hand clamp around my ankle, bringing me to the metal ground harshly.

This is what it must feel like to be the prey I normally chased away from the crops.

I manage to spin myself around to see the boy from One me, also on the floor, trying to pull me down.

I don't think twice as I level out my foot and slam it downwards, hitting him, surprisingly, into the neck. He shoots off me, almost flying and hurtling down the escalator, hitting the floor. The girl from One, clearly slower, appears at his fallen form and barks out a mocking laugh. I'm on my feet and running without a second thought, but a part of me knows that they won't chase. No. They won't have the time or the energy to make chase after three little kids who they believe will die, just like that.

When I reach the top, my allies are gone.

Disappeared.

A sinking feeling drops in my chest, taking my heart with it.

I never wanted allies. I never wanted to get attached to them. And yet, I've been abandoned by them completely.

_It's your own fault. You were the one who believed that your alliance would be based solely on your usefulness to each other. You just got them all nearly killed._

I didn't mean too. I-I just didn't want to see the Careers kill someone so heartlessly.

_That's what they are, Alto, so get used to it._

I grunt out a mix of anger and sadness, something so conflicted, I must sound like nothing but a simple animal. It's only when I look up do I see the flash of bleach blonde hair and pale face poking out from a room, smiling softly at me. She makes a signal with her hand, and that sinking feeling suddenly rises like a bounding firework.

They didn't abandon me at all.

I move over to the room, seeing Koel crouched down at the end, looking at me with that chesire grin of his. Addilyn moves over, orange backpack full of her wires perched against the wall near Koel, because surprisingly, she has a lot of faith in him to guard it with his life.

"It was nice of you to try and save her, Alto," Addilyn whispers softly. "But in here, we can't afford to do that constantly."

"I just didn't want to see them torture her."

Addilyn nods, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know. I get it, I really do. You have a heart so big, it's probably bigger than this arena. But your big heart will be your vulnerability. I'm not saying we'll take advantage of it, of course not, but others will see it and twist it so that you fall."

I only nod in agreement, understanding her completely for once. Being kind in a place like this won't exactly help keep me alive. That's why Careers win more than anything. They lack the heart and compassion to feel guilt for their kills, and that's how they win. By being machines rather than humans.

But is winning worth that price? Because by the looks of it, either way, you die or you live a life not worth living.

Addilyn moves her hand from her shoulder, motioning for Koel to come over. He crawls along the floor like some child, sitting cross-legged in front of us. Addilyn sticks out her pinky, holding it in the air.

"We'll stick together until the very end, no matter what."

Koel curls his pinky around hers instantly. "Deal!"

They look to me, my pinky waiting to join theres. I curl it around the pair very slowly, only managing a nod to say that yes, yes we'll stick together no matter what.

Because as much as I didn't want to, I feel something for my allies.

This big heart of mine has allowed Addilyn Helix and Koel Spelt in. Now, I don't want to lose them.

_Ever_.

* * *

**Zaira Havlin, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

"It's raining still." I say mindlessly to Tauria, curled up on the floor and smiling to herself as she stares at the ceiling.

"Oh well," Tauria manages to shrug. "Just means that everyone will be coming in now, avoiding where the rain lays."

"It doesn't get far, though. Just the middle part. It just bounces off of the barrier, like a window, kinda."

Tauria climbs to a sitting position, pulling her hatchet closer to her body, waiting. "Awesome. You know, you should cheer up and relax a little, Zaira. It might sound stupid in a place like this, but working yourself up will only make things worse. Positivity makes you feel better, overall."

"I've never felt positive," I mumble, hoping Tauria doesn't hear... She does, looking at me with those large eyes of hers. "I just mean, my life hasn't always been that great, so, yeah."

I can see that Tauria wants to ask what happened, why my life hasn't always been great, why I seem to be so quiet and withdrawn. It's practically hanging from her lips in mid-air. Tauria climbs up from her seat silently, walking over to me. I have no idea what she's doing until I find her two arms wrapping around her body, nudging me inwards for a supposedly warm hug. My arms stay limply by my side, no matter how hard Tauria attempts to squeeze the truth and answers out of me.

"You can talk to me if you need, Zaira," Tauria mumbles into my hair. "I promise you I'm here, and I'll try to help you as much as possible."

"Since when did talking about anything help?" I respond.

She takes some time to be able to counter that. "Talking helps a lot of things, and well, the chances of walking out alive are very slim, as you know. Maybe making peace would be a good thing for the pair of us."

"So _you_ have problems, too?"

Tauria pulls away, running a hand through her short, light brown locks, looking more than conflicted and confused by her inner emotions. A small, rugged sigh escapes her lips as she collects her hatchet from the floor.

"My brother does drugs," she states simply, more like a fact rather than an announcement. "He doesn't live with us anymore, but when he did, he did nothing but lie, cheat and steal in order to get his next fix. They kicked him out. A-And like, I hate him, because he was such a good kid, had so much hope and he threw it all away... Y-Yet I just miss you, you know? I hate him but if he came home, I'd hug him before I slapped him."

I notice the tears swimming in Tauria's eyes, ready to burst, but she holds them all in and continues to show a bright grin.

"He didn't even come to say goodbye... I-I don't even know if he knows I was reaped."

Everyone seems to have their problems. I hold back all my emotions, biting down on my lip at the apparent awkwardness the situation has created. I've never been good at handling emotional people, particularly those who have such a strong wall built up, that when they let it slip down, you have a few precious moments to act before the it slips away completely. I should hug her, I know I should, and yet, I just idly play with my thumbs.

She sniffs, looking up at me. "I'm sorry. Gosh, we was talking about you here and not me. But as I said, Zaira, if you need to speak, then do it."

It takes a moment for me to even think of what I could say. It's hard to explain a situation you don't fully know yourself. "My parents argued from dawn till dusk. They ran a business back in Eleven, not complicated, but it put a lot of pressure on their marriage. They're still together, just... The arguing..."

I don't even know if Tauria understands or not. I can imagine that her life, besides the drug-obsessed brother, is quite perfect with parents who love each other and a home that beats the rest. Someone so optimistic and kind doesn't come from a broken home.

After a long silence which feels like an eternity, Tauria speaks up. "Do they know how much it affects you?"

"Probably not, and now, they probably won't ever know," I shrug, trying to take a more confident approach. Nothing can break me. "Unless I get back, of course."

"Of course."

Silence is quick to catch on once more, but I don't let it happen this time. I stride over to collect my knife from the floor along with our backpack, throwing it over my shoulder. Tauria shows a quick smile, swinging her hatchet down to her side, preparing herself.

"Let's get moving then," Tauria grins, being the first to go to the door. "I was getting kind of _bored_ sitting down all the time."

* * *

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.**

* * *

They'll be on to me soon enough, I know that much. Gage's body wouldn't have been carried anywhere since he was so close to all the other Careers, particularly Garnet, his beady, blood lusting eyes trained on me the whole time. I was going to make it as quick and clean as possible. Kill the little creep and then get out the room. But oh no, Garnet had to be nosy and wake up.

Might as well come out with a bang, so to speak.

Problem is; will they want my blood for betraying them so soon?

I was never keen on the alliance in the first place. I never liked the idea straight from the beginning, but no, Mags suggested and Waverly was practically bouncing up and down with joy at the idea of being in the almighty Careers alliance. I wonder if it ever crossed his mind that, at some point, they were going to betray him, maybe kill him in his sleep if he was lucky, rather than torturing him.

The spear rolls around in my open palm, and for some reason, I feel like it's safer there.

If any surprises were to happen, then at least I'm prepared to throw it, catch them in the chest before they've even realised it was hurtling towards them.

I could probably take them all on individually. Usually, on most cases, I'd be at a major disadvantage, being on my own and trying to kill four other contenders with high scores. Astor got lower than me, Delaney got even and then the boys got a ten each. In reality, I'd be dead, but none of them are capable of using throwing weapons. They need to get close to me to be able to actually kill me...

I don't.

My feet echo against the tiled floor, the patter of rain hitting the electrified barrier and then sliding down effortlessly. It's almost calming, a strong reminder of life back in Four where on rare occasions, a storm would roll in from the sea and paint the district in water. The snow down below would have easily melted by now. Either that, or would have turned more into ice. But I'm not heading there. If I keep moving, then I'll probably bump into the Careers, and I kind of want that.

I want to _see_ if they are angry or betrayed.

Instead, as I continue walking, I hear a cannon rocket. It startles me enough to look upwards for some reason, putting my guard off. I feel the tackle before I even see the person, but I can tell by the weight that it must be an older girl, since it's light but still heavy for the older teenagers.

My head bounces off the tiles quite harshly, making me see stars, but the spear is still gripped in my hand.

I stagger to my feet as the girl from Seven, oh pixie cut, delivers a kick to my thigh, sending me to my knee. They must have seen a Career and thought to attack. And I know that there's two, because Seven's ally, Eleven, idly stands by with a knife in her hand.

"Zaira, quick, pass me the knife!" Seven commands her ally.

She hands it over and walks towards me, knife poised to arrow downwards into my body in one hand, no doubt, whilst a hatchet is in her other hand. But as she gets closer, I swing out my arm, catching my ankles and sending her to the floor. I'm up onto my feet within seconds, the spear literally quivering to go.

My eyes find my target.

And with a thrust, I send it spiraling towards Eleven, catching her in her lower chest, just under her heart. She's quick to deflate to her knees, the pressure and pain probably unbearable. I go to kick Seven, only to find her scrambling away desperately, abandoning her ally to a slow, painful death. I walk over, still slightly shaky from the bang to my head, and when I touch my skin through my locks, I can feel the warm, sticky feeling of some blood pooling.

I ignore it as I approach Eleven, eyes fixated on her writhing body.

I bend over, scooping her head into my lap. I know this would look strange to anyone, especially that of a Career doing it. A soothing sound escapes my lips before I know I'm doing, my hand mindlessly playing with her hair, all in an attempt to make her death a little better. Sure, I'll kill when I need too, but Eleven did nothing to me. She doesn't deserve a painful death, but she has to die, no matter what.

Soon enough, her eyes flutter closed, and the sound of her cannon is quick to join the other two that have recently sounded.

* * *

**Gavan Dior, District Six Male.**

* * *

We sit here, numb, just staring into open space.

Mirana lets out a little giggle every now and then, running her hand over her face, stained with Jack's blood. I think Mirana has finally cracked. I don't think anything more traumatic could have happened to her, and now, Mirana isn't around. Since we arrived back into safety, Mirana hasn't said a word. She continues to stare into space, often kissing her pocket watch around her neck or just plain giggling. Sometimes, she mindlessly rubs her face to wipe away Jack's blood.

Every time she does that, it makes me conscious, and suddenly, I do the same, even though I was nowhere near Jack when he got skewered.

I was waiting, silently hoping they'd make it to the steps in time to avaid One.

Cameron looks at me, a fierce determination floating around in her eyes mixing with the sadness at losing her district partner so soon. It's a conflicting mix, but somehow, it just makes Cameron seem more of a threat.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, I suppose.

"What do we do now?" I mumble pathetically, tracing my hand over the lines in the tiles, counting each and every single one.

_One, Two, Three, Four, Five S-_

"We stay put for now," Cameron replies in a whisper, a contrast to the look in her eyes. "One mistake was bad enough, we're not losing someone so soon."

I understand what she's doing. She's trying to hide her pain but pretending that it didn't bother her. That Jack's death didn't bother her. Yet, I know her enough to know that it's probably eating her up inside, she just won't admit to it quite easily. Mirana continues to giggle in the background as Cameron climbs up, going to the window of the shop.

"Do you see anything?" I say reasonably calm. Something I've learned to attempt to do in a place like this.

She shakes her head. "Not that I can see... But three more cannons not long after Jack's."

She says the last part, when she mentions Jack's name, is much more pained than it should sound. Mirana looks at me, twirling a strand of hair, but I have to fight away. She's far too unstable to probably even understand, anymore. I climb up, trying my best to still force a smile, no matter how sad it looks.

"Who do you think died then?"

Cameron shrugs. "We know that the guy from Three and the girl from Nine are out, and she was a big threat, too. I feel like it could be _anyone_ at this point."

But as she mumbles her last word, the rain slowly ceases. Her eyebrows knit together, as the false sky just from the corner of the glass begins to darken. Cameron mumbles something, quickly opening the door and walking out to look up. I make note of Mirana whose trapped in one of her rumblings before following Cameron out. She's pressed as close as she can to the barrier, head tilted back to stare at the glass roofing.

I hear a awful screeching noise, like an animal, before the glass roof begins to go a funny, swirling purple.

"What the fu-" Cameron begins, before the noise appears again, a glass chunk of the roof travelling upwards, allowing purple tendrils to dip in.

It doesn't take long for all the fear to reach and grip onto my heart, turning the blood in my veins cold. I run my hands through themselves over and over again, as what looks like a giant rope, pure white, drops from the gap. It takes a mere second for Cameron to grab my hand as the first, a large, shiny brown creature slides down.

The large body the size of small trucks, skin that looks like leather, slides so deadly to the glass, you can see the millions of black, gruesome eyes, and pure adrenaline and fear spikes my body.

Spiders.

Because after that one, many more drop, one after the other on their own white ropes, now we know as web.

Each one piles down into the plaza where the Cornucopia is, where Jack just recently died, all standing still and waiting. I feel Cameron tug me as the last one falls, making the army of spiders around ten, I think. Her tug turns into a hard yank as the spiders wait for a second and then begin piling themselves up the stairs and escalators at surprising speed.

They're going to tear through the arena, picking off who they can find. Obviously hiding is boring to the Gamemakers.

Cameron throws me into the room, slamming the door shut and pressing herself against it, sliding to the floor in a crouched heap.

She breaths hard, looking at me, all the while Mirana giggles and begins swishing her head back and forth, her murmuring now something new, it's turned into singing, causing a new sense of panic to settle deep in my stomach.

_"Incy wincy spider, ran up the water spout."_

* * *

**Shake It Out by Florence + The Machine.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Anastasia Burne, District Twelve.**

**Delaney Robb, District Two.**

**Zaira Havlin, District Eleven.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Who do you think will be the next death to happen?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.  
**

**Becky and June, your tributes were beautiful. :')**

* * *

**Just to let you all know, I'm currently part of a 24 author collaboration called Hunters and Hunted, located on the 24 for 24 account. I would love it if you guys read when it starts (6th!) and my tribute is Asha Grimm. For once, I have a tribute myself to work on, not just following a form!**

**SPIDERS! I personally hate the little buggers.**


	12. Any Other World

**Any Other World.**_  
_

_Cos it's all in the hands of a bitter, bitter man. S__ay goodbye to the world you thought you lived in._

* * *

**Stitch Hill, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I graze the tip of the sword over the tiled flooring of the room. Fern's blood is stained on the end, like wispy tendrils creeping up the silver more and more. She never expected it to happen. I guess that's the most _amusing_ thing of it all. Somehow, I managed to convince someone as distrusting and angry as Fern to believe for even just a split second so that I could spike her with a sword and then crush her skull with my boot.

People look at me and just assume that I'm quiet and polite. That my smile doesn't hold the many secrets that it does.

I don't think I'm that manipulative. I don't even really like people that much, I would much prefer to actually spend my time on my own. But, sometimes in dire need, you need to interact with others, and then my social skills come into play. I could be anyone's friend if I really needed too, because no-one doesn't not trust this smile and warm shield. I stand up, twisting the sword in the air. I could go and hunt for someone, but what would be the point in that? Much prefer if someone found me, rather than going out of my way to find someone who would be just as stupid and naive to believe me.

Mirana is probably the only person whose taken my pity.

Same with the littles.

I'm manipulative, but I'm not cold or cruel. Little kids can't defend themselves. Mirana is far too innocent and crazy to be sound. Fern, on the other hand, wasn't exactly weak or innocent. In a sense, I could be seen as a vigilante, killing the tributes who are threats to save the ones on the top of their lists to murder.

My eyes catch a glimpse of something large searching on the other side. I blink a few times because no, no, I can't _stand_ spiders.

But, my heart sinks as I look at the leather skin shimmering from the apparent rain rolling off of it. It's large, almost the size of the entire windows that keep us open and vulnerable, legs tittering against the floor on the other side. The grip around my sword tightens as I move to the door, twisting the handle and slipping myself out, never letting my eyes leave the creature across from me. It's not hard to miss the thousands of shiny black eyes flickering at every sound and light.

I hear a horrid screeching sound, and on instinct, I spin around.

The spider is just a few feet away, touching and feeling the ground around it. But it hasn't noticed me, otherwise I'd be pinned to the ground or dead by now.

I watch it carefully move along in rhythm with my feet stepping back.

No.

The sword raises just a little in the air, poised to fight back. I hate spiders, there's no way I'm going to die to one. Anything? Yes. Spiders? Hell no.

It's eyes flash up as my foot clips the other, tripping me up. I stagger back as it launches itself forward at a horribly fast speed.

I slash with the sword, but with a simple flick of one of it's eight legs, the sword spins from my hand, smacking against the barrier with a pop. My reflection stares back at me from the deadly eyes, and I'd be lying if I didn't want to holler and scream for help.

Instead, it pounces, catching me by surprise and taking me to the floor. I fight back the scream, grabbing a hand on two of the legs and holding them in place as grotesque pincers snap at me hungrily, just inches from my face. Back at home, if I wanted to get rid of a spider, I'd get the maid that cleaned our house to kill it, even if she hated them too. The life of luxury some would call it.

It gets closer and closer, and I probably could see my life flash before my eyes.

Yet, my hand slips off of one leg and my fingers manage to graze over cold silver, and I'm quick to curl them around it and bringing it forward as quick as possible.

It lunges forward once more.

My sword appears in front of my face.

In a flash, I feel the sickening warmth of the spider's blood spraying down onto my face, slipping into my mouth and making me gag and choke. But I continue to push despite the urgent cries that rings out. With a muted thud, the spider falls to the side. I can't hear much except for the blood pounding in my ears, my heart racing much too fast and pounding much too hard. I lay there, exhausted, black blood on my face.

I hate spiders _so_ much.

* * *

**Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.**

* * *

It didn't take long for Koel to spot the spider creeping up the stairs. In fact, the moment he did notice, he screamed like a little girl and pointed frantically at the window as if that was enough advice.

Alto looks at me with eyes that seem so unnaturally calm.

"Alto, I have an idea," I say calmly, getting Koel to crawl across the floor and get my backpack. He does so, bringing it back to me and Alto, all three of us hidden against the wall underneath the window. "Could I have one of your arrows, please?"

His eyebrows knit from the confusion, but I just smile.

"It's a _really_ good idea I promise you."

"I've never doubted you before," Alto mumbles as he snakes an arrow from the satchel. "Lets just hope it'll kill the spider."

I smile as I spill the wires out from my bag. Koel instantly recognises the blue one, the conductor, and excitedly points at it. I scoop it up, studying the little object and picking more and more wires from within the bag. Finally, after much consideration, I connect the wires together by their little adapters and connecting units. Koel leans forward a little, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Alto just studying my every move. I can't help but smile at the two of them suddenly gaining interest in my weapon.

"Koel, do you think you could provide a distraction?"

He frowns and slowly nods his head. "W-What are you going to make me do?"

"Nothing that's going to get you in danger, don't worry," I wrap the small part of the collection of wires around Alto's arrow, right at the bottom, and hand it back to him. "I just want you to go out there and cause a lot of noise to attract the spider. Get it to come after you."

His face contorts into horror, but I delicately place my hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing will come of you, I promise you that much," I try to reassure. "It's just a little theory I want to test, and well, I know it will work. You're the only one that can do it, Koel."

After a moment of thinking, Koel sucks in some air through gritted teeth and stands, broadening his shoulders. I murmur a thank you to him as he opens the door carefully, slipping away silently. I look to Alto, not wanting to waste any time.

"Okay, come and wait a moment," I wiggle my finger at him. "I want to tell you the idea."

I mumble the idea into his ear, and with each word, I get a sigh and grumble in response. Slowly, I pull away, rising to my feet. I peek out the window to see Koel standing idly, watching the creature move around sullen and sluggish. When I see the beady eyes from afar, I'm not surprised. The pieces fall into place. These spiders, whilst large and deadly, have a little vulnerability of sorts that a tribute could exploit.

They're colour blind.

My fingers tug into my thin little belt. Yep. That's why we're wearing these. For once, they gave us an advantage. Spiders who can kill, but rely on sound and seeing our colourful little belts on show. Koel's lime green should be doing _wonders_ to the dozens of eyes.

The spider notices Koel, and from behind, you can see him stiffen at the sight. It races around the corner far too quickly, stomping and making a complete disaster of everything. Koel spins and I nod, and Koel begins running down the walkway away from the creature.

"Get ready."

It passes us, and I whip the door open, holding one end of the wire, the other connected to Alto's arrow. I see Koel's body still sprinting, hidden mostly by the leather skin of the monster. Alto lines up his arrow, and with a ping, the arrow flies into the distance, piercing through the creature's abdomen. I throw myself across the gap towards the electrified barrier, placing the raw wires against it. The electricity comes to live, sparking and shaking as it runs through the wires. It absorbs straight into the spider, and with a gurgled cry, it's body racks with bolt after bolt, until it dies. As it falls, Koel stands behind it, shocked.

"Well done Koel!" I shout over the black smoke coming from the animal.

Koel just grins. "You just electrocuted him!"

Alto looks at me, smiling faintly. "Looks like we've found our way to kill the others."

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

The first spider throws itself at us, but no surprise, Garnet is quick to thrust his sword in a straight line, catching the spider straight between the mouth with a sickening squelch. He smirks triumphantly at the kill, watching the spider crumple to nothing more than a brown heap.

"Well done," Astor mocks him from a behind, a pick-axe now in her hands. "You were able to kill a creature."

Garnet glares for a moment before his eyes soften, as if he's just realised what he was doing. "Such wit, Astor. How about you get the next one."

On cue, another spider the same size climbs up the stairs nearest us, black beady eyes watching us with hunger and lust. You can see the lump in Astor's throat bob up and down as she gulps, steadying herself as the creature jumps.

It flies through the air for a moment, before Astor spins and sends a swing at the spider, slashing the side of it's face. Black, thick blood leaks from the wound, but it doesn't seem fazed. I look to Garnet who proudly stands there with arms crossed over his chest, flexing his muscles just a tad. He gives me a knowing wink, as if he finds this entertaining. I turn back in time to see Astor deliver a kick, followed by another slash with her pick-axe.

It takes her a while to kill it, and the whole time, I just watch.

I watch.

Like I watched the boy from Seven almost kill Lorelei until I reacted.

Like I watched Garnet murder the boy from Five.

Like I watched the little boy from Eleven shoot an arrow into Delaney's throat.

Like I watched the life and colour drain from her eyes, the whole time wondering how I couldn't do nothing to save or stop her.

I shake my head to rid the thoughts as Astor moves over, pick-axe stained black and a proud, sarcastic smile playing on her lips delicately. She throws a wink at Garnet as she stands near me.

"Oh look, I'm just as good as the monster known as Garnet." Astor smirks.

Garnet lets out a little laugh. "As the monster known as Garnet. Funny, that's a new one you've used. You say monster, _I_ say extraordinaire."

"You say extraordinaire, _I_ say a complete egotistical idiot."

It's almost like a battle between the two. A constant throwdown of words and wit. Yet, every time I actually look at Garnet as he retorts to Astor, I can hesitance. I know for a fact that he isn't as mean to her as he could be. He holds it back, like a fire tickling paper but never fully engulfing it. Part of me wants to believe he likes her, but the real part believes that he could possibly be playing a cat and mouse game with her. Luring Astor into a sense of security to rip it away.

As they throw some more words, I can't help but compare it to me and Delaney. We were just the same. I know Astor and Garnet didn't know each other before the Games, Astor made that very clear, but in here and out there, me and Delaney were like them.

A pang of guilt hits my heart, dropping into my stomach.

I can still feel her blood on my hands, her cold, ragged breath whispering to me, telling me to win for her.

"You okay Theo?"

I snap out of my daze to find Garnet staring at me. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Garnet frowns a little, and it surprises me, because he treats me like a friend when I've never treated him any differently to the other Careers. "Is it Astor? I can see why it could be. She annoys me too."

Astor makes a disgruntled sound as she kicks a leg of a dead spider away from her, leaving a trail of black on the white floor.

"It's not her," I reply as short as possible, hoping he just leaves it at that. "I'm just... In my head a lot."

Garnet shrugs the assumption away, looking around at the minor chaos both he and Astor caused. "Now what do we do?"

I look at Garnet, letting my eyes graze over Astor in the background, still inspecting the creature that Garnet killed. I know what to do. I know what I want to do, what I have to do, but it doesn't make it easier. I'm not attached to either of them. I never was. I felt a small amount of pity for Waverly, respect for Lorelei, Garnet and Astor, and friendship and warmth for Delaney. But I'm not attached. I could make it without either of them.

"I think we should split now." I state simply.

Astor snaps up quickly, a look of confusion but excitement in her eyes. Garnet, on the other hand, doesn't look so pleased.

"You want to just destroy the alliance _now_?"

I shrug. "There's not much left. Not even ten tributes left and two Careers are dead and one has walked out because she's devious. We'll probably cover more ground if we separate, anyway."

A little light flicks in Garnet's eyes. "So we just _go_ out and kill and then meet at the end?"

I don't have anything to say to that. A smile forms on my lips as I hold the morningstar in my hand more tighter. I think he gets the point, since his mouth makes an 'o' and he looks at Astor, giving her a curt nod as he begins to walk to an escalator heading upwards. I think a part of him feels wounded from the idea of being on his own. There I was thinking Garnet was some monster, capable of bloodlust, but I genuinely think he needed us with him, sort of like mocking encouragement.

Astor just stays put, and I take that as my cue to leave. I know where to go.

And _who_ to find.

* * *

**Gavan Dior, District Six Male.**

* * *

"_Incy wincy spider, climbed up the water spout._"

I try to block out Mirana's haunting singing, but it's too hard. I can still hear it above all else, loud and clear, whilst my eyes just stare at Cameron's uncertain ones. For once, I can look at Cameron and say that yes, she looks scared, a side I've never seen from her.

"_Down came the rain and washed the spider out_."

"Gavan, put your hand over her mouth!" Cameron hisses.

I look to the left and the right, any excuse not to do what she says. Putting my hand over Mirana's mouth would mean that spit and germs would get onto it. Even the mere thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. No-one understands my OCD, the fear of getting dirty and the germs.

"_Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain_." Mirana sings loudly, getting quiet at the end of the line.

Something in her song clicks in my brain, but I don't know what. Her words rattle around my brain, before I see a large shadow cross over the glass, and instantly, the words are replaced by the sound of my own heartbeat battling around my skull. I sink lower and lower down to the floor, desperate to not be seen. I doubt it could anyway. Cameron's urgent eyes never leave mine, though, and Mirana continues to rock back and forth, staring into nothingness.

"_And incy wincy spider climbed up the spout again_."

A large crashing sound rings out, glass shattering and spraying down on us. Mirana lets out a giggle and excited cheer as the leg of the spider swipes angrily through the hole in the window. Every slash, Mirana laughs and cheers it on, whilst Cameron presses herself up against the door and wall, bracing herself.

I try to make it across the floor by crawling, but little pieces of glass cut into my hand, sparking it red. I watch as it dribbles down, still determined to make it to Mirana.

But as I get close, another leg swipes into the room, this time, though, Cameron manages to get to her feet and using Jack's hatchet, she slams it down on a leathery leg, which falls into the room. A squelch and screech rings out, but Cameron's quick to throw the door open, tugging Mirana with one wrist whilst I grab the other, practically dragging her along as she continues to chant and cheer.

We run down the walkway, the spider chasing us. Something soon snatches onto my legs and I trip, finding myself tangled. Mirana and Cameron go down with me, though Mirana just laughs it away lightheartedly. White, sticky web clings my feet together and the spider storms downwards, piercing a leg down. We manage to avoid it, barely, and Cameron rolls herself over, slicing air with the hatchet.

She's been caught too.

I look to Mirana's feet, noticing web also around them.

The spider steathily dodges each swipe of Cameron's new-found hatchet, Mirana's giggling filling the air. But this time when he stabs towards the ground, it pierces through Mirana's lower leg. Her giggling turns into a banshee scream, wailing hard and loud. It somehow urges Cameron to break out of her web, standing up and cutting through the leg pierced into Mirana's.

Another squelch, just as I break out of mine and get up, grabbing Mirana by her arm as tears fill her eyes and stream her face.

I begin to hobble away from Mirana crying. I feel guilty for her. She lost Jack, had his blood smeared on her face, then attacked and injured by a stupid spider. Cameron, surprisingly, throws her hatchet much like a throwing knife. It lands straight in the mouth of the broken, disabled creature that just collapses over.

"Wow." I manage to breath out, though she probably can't hear me over Mirana's crying.

Cameron looks at me with slightly wild, terrified eyes.

"Lay her down."

I do as she commands, resting Mirana down onto the tiled flooring, making sure the hole in her leg doesn't begin to expand or anything. Cameron retches her hatchet from the spider, walking over to us.

"What are we going to do, Cam?" I ask pitifully, trying my hardest to block out Mirana's crying, much like her singing.

Cameron's hollow eyes just stare at Mirana's writhing, crying body that laughs every other second she's not in pain. She's _gone_. Even if she lived, she would have been too traumatized by the events. I look to Cameron, but she already knows. She gives a little curt nod, swallowing down her hesitation and stepping forward, bringing the hatchet down as hard and fast as possible onto Mirana's chest.

A cannon sounds immediately.

But when Cameron looks at me, I don't see a subtle, sarcastic warmth anymore. I see hardened, dark eyes that seem troubled and overwhelmed. She stares at Mirana for a split second, before walking off. Mirana's body lingers in the corner of my eye, before it becomes too much, and I end up chasing after Cam.

* * *

**Astor Sheen, District One Female.**

* * *

The moment I know that both Theo and Garnet are gone, I sit down, relishing in the thought of being alone. I've always hated being referred to as a "Career". A Career is for someone whose been trained and worked hard most of their life specifically for this point. I haven't. I'm not trained. I'm thrown into their category because of the district I come from.

Talk about stereotyping me.

I'm not as strong or trained as the others, but I'm just as tough. A life of rough and tumble, play fighting and living on the rough streets of Blackdamp, you learn a thing or two about survival and how to do it. I might not be exceptionally pretty or be able to swing a sword with grace, but I won't give up. My fighting spirit is as strong as it could ever be, and I will win. I will overcome all the others, because I've lived like that.

Not trained like that. But born and bred into that.

They pushed themselves into it, whereas it came naturally to me.

Although, a part of me will miss Garnet's stupidity and Theo's silent and sullen exterior.

You grow close to people you dislike when you spend enough time with them.

My eyes gaze around the sight before me, splattered blood littering the white washed tiled flooring. Black against white. A contrast. I almost laugh at myself for making that sudden comparison in my head. Gloss would be proud. Marvel would be disappointed and mocking.

The thought of both of them bring on two different types of guilt and longing. Marvel, because he's my brother, my blood, and we might be different, but there isn't anything I wouldn't do for him. In a twisted sense, I'm here for him. Gloss, because he's an arrogant ass, but he brought me a sense of belonging that could rival my life back in Blackdamp. When I volunteered, it was almost like a giant sense of loss.

Then I met Gloss, and it was renewed, because _he_ was just like my brother but older.

A _little_ bit more better looking, too.

But every time I try to focus on Gloss' face to remind me that if he done it, so could I, it's replaced and morphed into Marvel. The idiot, self-righteous brother of mine that was more disappointed and disgusted in being a simple pauper kid from Blackdamp. No. He wanted to be better, thought he could be better, hanging with the popular kids from the richer side, particularly that girl, Glimmer, who he often talked about.

Said that he could get her if he wanted too.

But deep down, he must have known that no matter how he acted, his label, his home, would have determined his future. Glimmer, a rich child, would never date a poor boy like Marvel.

Reality just doesn't play like that.

I get up, letting the pick-axe fall to my side. I could hunt. I should hunt, actually. Twelve tributes left, halfway, and already a Career has fallen. Good thing I never actually liked Delaney anyway. She was far too obnoxious for my own liking, and that's saying something, since I'm obnoxious myself. My feet echo against the ground as I begin to walk, eyes never leaving the sight of the fallen spiders. What was the point in them?

Did they actually _kill_ anyone? Harm them?

Or just a pointless, exciting act to pick up the speed a little. I have no idea. I kind of don't really care, either, because it might take a Mutt to actually kill Garnet, since he believes he's invincible. In fact, I kind of want to be the one to kill him, just so I can smirk in his face. Another thing that Marvel would disapprove of. Me finding the fun in killing someone who technically deserves it.

Well, he doesn't deserve it, but he's definitely asking for it.

I creep closer to the barrier, peeking over and down to the Cornucopia. The snow has melted away, the rain has stopped, and you can practically feel the sweltering heat laying on your skin. Instead, the sky up above suddenly goes from a bright orange with a sun, to a skin pink and then a dark, azure blue with black clouds. The anthem tune rings out, echoing against the hollow, concrete arena. The first picture to pop up is Delaney, obviously, whilst following her is the girl from Eight with her bright red hair. Next up is the girl from Eleven and then the girl from Twelve.

All the girls are just _falling_.

That just makes my chances rise and fall at the same time.

* * *

**Chord Wickers, District Ten Male.**

* * *

I stop to rest by a small shop on the corner of a floor. I watched the spiders run through, but they weren't bothered with me. I easily just hid and waited for them to disappear. Even if they were to attack, I could have just roped and wrangled them like I did the cattle back in Ten.

My top sticks uncomfortably to my chest, and I pry it off with two fingers.

It's slowly getting warmer. It was never this warm when the Games began, neither when it began to snow and then constantly rained down on us. Yet, it's humid and becoming increasingly hard to handle. I stealthily slip the water bottle from my bag, taking a swig.

If it gets any hotter, we'll all die of dehydration. Then again, with the shops full of them, a bounty of food and water, no-one should die of starvation or dehydration. Even if they couldn't drink from a water bottle, there's the puddles from the rain and melting snow down below. I don't even know why I'm thinking of the other tributes. But that little part of me that's human, warm and kind, still thinks of others. Particularly the other little children that remind me of Sami.

The harmonica tightens in my hand, the thought of her death still lingering in the back of my mind.

I tried to save her and I couldn't.

And to make up for it, I managed to spare the girl from Twelve the horrifying death at the hands of the Careers. Only to see her face wavering in the false night.

I pause for a moment, prying my top from my chest one more time. Beads of sweat roll down my forehead, but I wipe them away roughly.

"Hey."

I freeze, my muscles tensing up with friction. I recognise the voice coming from behind me, but it's not my time just yet. My fingers twitch for the lasso trapped in my thin belt. I spin around, releasing the weapon and preparing to hit someone.

Instead, I'm met with the confused face of Two, a smirk playing on his lips.

"That isn't exactly going to _save_ you."

The morningstar, his precious weapon that I remember teasing him about in training, hangs down by his side, not ready to be swung. That confuses me. Another thing that confuses me is the gentleness in his eyes for some strange, apparent reason.

"Shouldn't you have that up and ready? _It isn't exactly going to save you_."

The smirk plays out fully, making his whole face light up just a little bit. He was never as nasty as some of the other Careers, and I always promised myself that I would never attack him since I knew he wouldn't hurt Sami. Yet, at some point, I _might_ have too.

"What do you want, Two?" I say, trying to make my voice sound rough and hardened.

Two shrugs his broad shoulders. "You can use my name, you know. Two sounds annoying when you repeat it. I'm Theo."

"Chord."

"Well, Chord," Theo smiles faintly, motioning his hand out. "How about _allies_?"

I look at the hand extended towards me, before my eyes flick up to his. He never looked terrifying. For a Career, especially from Two, he wasn't as menacing and murderous as his other allies. Slowly, I extend my free hand, grasping his and giving it a simple shake. Just once.

"Allies."

* * *

**Any Other World by Mika.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Mirana Capulet, District Eight.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Who do you not want to make the converted top ten spots?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.  
**

**Hearts, ohmygosh, I did love Mirana to the moon and back, and then to the sun and back.**


	13. Heads Will Roll

**Heads Will Roll.**_  
_

_Heads will roll on the floor._

* * *

**Astor Sheen, District One Female.**

* * *

I remember when Marvel first decided against his life in Blackdamp. The kids in the street were being rowdy as usual, shouting and cheering, kicking a dirty ball around on the cement, dirt splattered over their trousers and faces, covering their smiles. I was helping my mother load up some of my old clothes, some of Marvel's too, into a box to take to one of the many poor families that live around us. It's a typical tradition; passing clothes down to save expenses.

Marvel was sat outside the house, watching.

I remember asking him if he wanted to play with them.

His reply was that he _didn't_ want to get that dirty, and he just could _never_ act as much of an animal as they did.

That was the first hint. Then, when he went to school, he started to act different. More superior and cocky. It's like he had been replaced. He refused to let his old clothes, clothes that had small holes in or damages, be given to other families. Sentiments was his excuse.

I smile, the memories filling my brain.

He may have been a dick. Cocky and arrogant, even at a young age, but he was my brother. I would have done anything for him. And, well, that worked out, since I'm in here for him. It's cliche beyond belief. The girl who volunteered to save her family.

But it isn't like that.

It's _never_ been like that.

If Marvel knew I volunteered for him, he would have hit me. Told me that I was stupid, only attention-seeking, being typical Astor, trying to attract all the attention. I done it for him, that's no lie, but I wanted to bring some notice to Blackdamp. No-one knows what it truly is. Every person who enters the Games comes from the richer, more extravagant area of One. All blonde, beautiful and dumb as bricks, only capable of swinging a sword and praying it hits a target.

I want to bring honor to my home. When One wins the Games, all the extra food gets distributed. Blackdamp gets barely anything since the richer side gobbles it all up instead. We're the ones that are fucking starving, yet, we get nothing when the rich can afford it.

If I win, I can share some money out, feed the children that I see outside my house normally, kicking a ball to hide away the hunger. It's cliche, but life is just like that. One big freaking cliche after the other.

I stop when I hear nearby footsteps. Spinning around, I raise my pick-axe, watching the familiar shadow ascend up the stairs towards me. I see his cocky smile first, before the shining glint on his sword. Beads of sweat sit on his forehead, top stuck to him almost attractively. I almost hit myself from thinking that thought as Garnet stands there, staring at me. I blink a few times, before my trademark smirk perks up.

"I've been looking for you. You know, we could always pair up to go after Theo," Garnet says smoothly. "I mean, I respect the guy, but the whole winner and all that."

"So you've been stalking me?" I raise an eyebrow, laughing.

"Could say that," Garnet chuckles a little, but it sounds rather dark. "I hid and waited until Theo walked away, before I watched and picked the right moment. You killed that spider good, I killed my one could. We could do it."

"And then what? You'll let me kill you because you're _such_ a gentleman?"

"We'll have to fight it out, obviously, but I think it makes sense."

It's funny. Garnet seemed like an idiot back in the Capitol. Dumb, stupid, all the idiotic words and they summed up Garnet Stone. Yet, he's come in here, and suddenly, he knows big words and how to act and react to someone. It's almost like school for him. I guess you could call this his playground, and he's the schoolyard bully. I've never been fond of bullies that much. Something stirs in me, but I don't know what.

And Garnet can tell.

He shrugs his shoulders, not really caring. "Guess that's a no. Shame. Lets get this going then."

The silver sword rises into a stance and Garnet steps forward. I level the pick-axe with his sword. I see a flash of a charming smile on his face, before I run forward, swinging with all my might. Garnet steps back in time to dodge, driving his sword forward, just missing my hip. A battle cry sounds from his mouth as he charges towards me and somehow, I involuntarily scream out as he tackles me to the ground. My head bounces off the tiled floor like it's nothing more than a ball. The same ball that the kids in Blackdamp kick around.

I thrash around underneath his weight, feeling his hands try to grip around my throat. I manage to swipe it away, driving my knee upwards into his gut. He makes a guttural sound as he falls to the side as I try to grab onto my pick-axe.

But as I curl my fingers around it, I forget one small detail.

Garnet's sword.

As I turn around, I see Garnet standing, and with a forceful thrust, he sends me flying back into the barrier, hands gripped onto my shoulders to hold me into place. I hit the electrified wall hard, hearing a pop that sends my body into spasms. It hurts like hell. Like all my nerves and tendons are being slowly fried on the stove. I suck in as much strength as possible, pushing against his chest to get off me.

Blackness begins to sizzle in my view.

I see the flash of silver once more, heading straight for my exposed neck.

I don't hear or see anything as the blade makes contact with my neck. I feel a small sharp pain, but all my nerves are gone. Fried and electrocuted. And like that, the darkness takes over and it's all over, the last image being that damned sword.

I just wanted Blackdamp to gain some notice. Yet, I've somehow become a martyr.

* * *

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.**

* * *

I watch as Astor's decapitated head hits the floor. Her eyes are closed, red hair smothering her face. It rolls back and forth until it comes to a stop next to Garnet's foot. He sighs almost sympathetically before he kicks it away. Bright red coats most of the bleach white floor. Garnet swings the stained sword into the air and chuckles a little, stalking away across the walkway. I sit up a little more, eyes trained on Astor's body.

The ceiling above the walkway opens up, the infamous metal claw I've yet to see dropping down to scoop up her headless body.

When that's done, it drops down again, picking up the head. I watch as the red strands disappear into the black hole, before it closes up almost perfectly.

Just like that, Garnet killed her. He had always been a bit soft with Astor, no matter how much she actually insulted him, yet, he had no problem separating her head from her body. I shouldn't feel that surprised, even if it was Astor. Garnet has always had a dark streak in him. I mean, we're talking about the guy who handed the giant stone to Delaney so she could cave in the little girl from Ten's skull.

Somehow, I feel like Garnet _is_ the one to beat.

Before we entered, I was sure it was me. I had the plan, the mysteriousness that shrouded me and kept everyone else on their toes.

But if it comes down to fighting alone, Garnet has it won. Theo might be able to fight back, even me and maybe the guy from Ten, but unless someone has an incredibly trick up their sleeve, he'll end up being a rampant monster; unstoppable.

I fondle around the backpack I stole from the girl from Eleven, finding a banana and peeling back the skin.

I take a bite, trying my hardest to remind myself of why I'm doing this. Why I'm actually fighting for something. I have a role to play, and I need to play it. I have to play it. Standing up, I look out, noticing that whilst the temperature is humid and almost sweltering, you can't mistake the shadows pressed against the barrier. Whatever weather is next to appear after the snow and rain, it can't be good.

I bend over to grab the spear, ready. My hand lingers on the door handle.

It's never going to work if I continue to hide. To win, to conquer, I need to fight. I need to kill.

The door swings open, and I walk out, determined to do just that.

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

"Cameron, it's okay."

I hear Gavan's voice, but I don't know where he is. A part of me doesn't want to care that he's still here. The other part of me actually cares he's still here and how stupid he is to do so. My eyes are fixated on the floor, the memory replaying over and over again in my head.

The spider. Mirana's writhing body. The hatchet flying through the air, carving into the spider. Then, swinging down and slamming into Mirana's chest.

Killing her.

I killed her.

I lost Jack earlier than I thought. I had to end Mirana's life out of pity. Gavan's still here, and yet, I feel more cursed than anything. Jack died when he was around me. I killed Mirana when she was around me. I could be cursed for all I know, and Gavan could fall next. Yet, he stays, persistent, sitting in the corner of my view, knees tucked underneath his chin.

"You can go, Gavan," I say bluntly. "I'll just get you killed."

"No you won't."

I scoff. "Of course I will. At the moment, everything I touch seems to fall."

I watch him crawl across the floor, hissing slightly with crinkled eyes at the pressure and pain in his hands from the glass shards. He stops next to me, placing a hand on my knee gingerly.

"Cameron, snap out of it. Jack died - but you didn't kill him. Mirana needed to die. It would have broken her more than what she already is."

"Maybe you should have slammed the hatchet into her chest then, Gavan." I snap back.

I hear him take a breath, moving his hand away and sitting properly, resuming his previous position with knees underneath his chin. "I'm not as brave as you, clearly. You could do it. You took the problem and created a solution. That's what a Victor is made of."

"You know, when I first met you and Mirana laughed at you, I thought you were odd. No, actually, I thought you were completely off your rocker. Mirana was insane, and I thought you were too. And you were, Gav, no offence. Yet, you've come in here, and you seem to be acting a lot more sane than everyone else. It's ironic."

"Maybe I belong here then," Gavan says short and sweet. "Maybe this place is for crazy people. And if it isn't, it turns you crazy instead."

"See what I mean, normal," I laugh, looking at him properly for the first time during the whole conversation. "You can't leave me now. Jack and Mirana are dead, and I refuse to be alone. If you're becoming sane, and I'm becoming insane, then we need to balance each other out."

He smiles softly. "I suppose so. I wouldn't leave. I mean, I don't think I could handle it. The only reason I'm probably becoming more sane is being around you and Jack and Mirana. Makes me feel more accepted, rather than outcasted."

The sinking feeling in my heart returns at his words on Jack and Mirana. Mirana was like a little sister, innocent and pure, tainted by all this. Jack was... I don't even _know_ what Jack was to me. Maybe more than friends? I never got to find out. I never got to act on my confused feelings for him. Maybe I will go crazy. It wouldn't surprise me, to be honest. But I think crazy might suit me. Cameron Flinch, the local screw loose of District Five. I can imagine myself as the crazy old lady everyone avoids.

At least then I wouldn't have to get hurt anymore.

Gavan must notice me stuck in my thoughts, since his hand returns to my knee. I look back to him, seeing a faint comfortable smile. Now I don't think I could lose him too.

"You aren't going crazy, Cameron." Gavan looks at me with a frown, before smiling once more.

"I know," I say, though I don't know whether it is the truth or a simple, confused lie. "I know."

He leaves it there, resting his head back against the wall in the new shop we've relocated ourselves too. Blankets surround us, hung up on pegs and spread out on the floor. I don't know anymore. I don't know to think or what I'm feeling. I'm hollow from their deaths, yet I can feel a burning feeling of anger and revenge budding in my stomach. I feel like everyone is just dying and it's my fault, and I want Gavan to save himself, yet I want him to stay with me and stop me from completely losing my mind.

Everything has become so _complicated_.

But two things are certain; Gavan is not as crazy as he sometimes lets on. He's far more in control of his mind then he portrays. And secondly, no matter, I will find _some_ way to avenge Jack's death and cement Mirana's in history so she's never forgotten.

They are the _only_ two things I'm clear on.

* * *

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

_How do you feel about them now, Alto?_

I think I shouldn't always debate about things. I debated my relationship with the pair of them. Whether or not I could trust and learn to care for both Addilyn and Koel. I think... I think I can. I think I can care for them just like my siblings, like Inuka before she left.

_Addilyn isn't like Inuka._

My eyes linger on Addilyn's sleeping form, hid underneath a table, backpack as a pillow and a bare, brown blanket covering her legs. She's nothing like Inuka. Inuka was loud and brash, crude and fiery. She would never back down from a fight, and relied heavily on physical fighting. Addilyn is quiet and shy, calm and smart, relying on her brain to survive. Addilyn will never replace Inuka. But Inuka's gone...

She hurt her hand and couldn't use a bow anymore. In Eleven, if you're white and can't use bows for your job as a Scarecrow, you're deemed useless and broken. They either send you to the fields to pick or they simple kill you. Why try and feed someone who can't help out? She escaped the night before. Jumped on a train heading out to the Capitol to deliver our food and hard work in sacks.

Inuka was an orphan, lived with us and raised to be able to thieve. She would always bring home extra food she had stole from some stupid, clueless Peacekeeper. Lyric, one of my elder sisters, was always disapproving of Inuka's choice, but excepted it, because it meant more food on the table for the five of us.

Five of us in a small shack.

My older sisters Lyric and Raven, my younger brother Crow, and then Inuka.

All Scarecrows. All except Crow able to handle bows, working day and night to protect the crops. We were all rarely ever home at the same. Lyric often worked early mornings with her friend, whilst me and Raven worked the same plot of land, guarding it like soldiers.

Koel begins to stir next to her, edging closer, his own blanket tucked around him. He settles next to Addilyn, and surprisingly, she leans in more to him. A small forms on my lips at the two of them, followed by a sigh and puff of cold air that comes out in a wispy fog. My bones rattle and my teeth chatter, but I keep it together.

I've never been able to sleep at night. I worked the night shifts so that Raven could sleep. But I never enjoyed it. Something about the darkness, the shadows and what is lurking in them is disturbing and unsettling to me. Maybe because over the years, I've learned of the terrifying animals and predators, waiting, sniffing, hungry for your meat. The anthem rings out, the seal appearing on the glass roof up above. I crane my neck to see, but only one cannon has sounded since the last one containing Zaira. No-one wakes up, and hugging my stomach to keep warm, I watch as the girl from One is the only face in the night sky before it goes dark once more.

We're so close now. Eleven tributes remain, and three of them are me and my allies.

A sinking feeling plummets into my stomach. How far can we go as allies? Sooner or later, we'll split or someone will die, and then what?

_Someone got attached when they said they wouldn't._

Shut up.

* * *

**Garnet Stone, District One Male.**

* * *

Somehow, killing Astor didn't make me feel satisfied in any sense. Somehow, I actually felt bad about chopping off her head. At the time I didn't, otherwise I wouldn't have killed her, but now I definitely can sense some guilt lingering down below. I only ever wanted to be allies with her.

I stop when I hear the crackle of thunder in the air.

It sounds almost exactly like the bolts that strike the sky back in One. I guess we all share the same sky, but it stirs something inside of me I can't quite understand. I miss home. It must be homesickness. Fuck. Now it's getting tougher and I had to go and grow some feelings for everything. Just _perfect_.

But when I see the girl from Seven walking along the walkway, illuminated by the crackles of thunder that light up her pretty little face, I go back to Garnet Stone; trainee and future Victor.

I run forward, but she doesn't hear my footsteps until I'm practically on top of her.

At the last minute, though, she dodges out the way and slams against the cement shop. I swing out, connecting my fist against her jaw, and she goes sprawling to the floor. A laugh bubbles from my throat as I turn around, readying my sword. Seven, has other ideas, however, and manages to kick back and hit my ankle. I jump back from the hit and that gives her enough time to jump and begin running again.

I don't chase her as she charges down the steps.

I don't know why I don't, though. My body just won't move, like it's physically forcing me to stay still on the spot. Maybe because I've already killed a girl today and that's enough. Maybe it's these fucking feelings clogging up my system and taking away my animal instincts. I don't know. But either way, a perfect kill, and I let her run away. She'll be dead by morning anyway. It wouldn't surprise me whatsoever.

What I don't count on, though, is scouting past a shop and seeing a single, sleeping form on the floor, a sword laying by his side.

It's a nice sword, too, not as good as mine but definitely something that could kill and still look epic whilst spilling that blood. It's a boy, I know that, and I grip the handle lightly to open it up. The door squeaks a little, but it doesn't disturb him, and it takes but a moment to realise that it's the guy from Eight. The same one who evaded me during the bloodbath, resorting in me having to kill Twelve instead, just so I had one death on my hands.

This time he won't get away.

I raise my sword into the air as another thunderbolt crackles. Eight jolts awake from the noise and instantly sees my sword poised to stab him. I rush to bring it down, but Eight scrambles away and it pierces into the ground between his legs. His sword lays abandoned by the side as he jumps to his feet, black smudges across his face. I know for a fact that it is the spider's blood that is smeared on him. Definitely.

"Thought you could get away," I growl, swinging my sword and watching Eight jump back like a marionette, escaping my moves as I taunt him. "Thought you could actually win? Survive? You were deadly wrong."

I swing again. He jumps back again.

"Enough playing."

Eight takes that as his cue to run forward and force himself into me, almost like a tackle. It manages to knock me back a little, but I'm a lot bigger so I don't fall to the floor at all. I send a closed fist into his gut, which causes him to double over and wince in front of me. I don't miss the flash of pale skin on the back of his neck, hidden slightly by his long, shaggy brown flicks. I raise my sword high and bring it across the flesh, listening to the wonderful sound of metal meeting bone, silver crushing through veins, a head hitting the floor and being completely separated from their body. Eight's body sways, blood squirting from the wound. I push my hands out so that the body falls backwards against the window, sliding down and leaving a red trail along the transparent material.

Eight's head just sits on the floor, facial features pressed into the tiles.

Another one down. Another decapitated.

A cannon bounds as I leave the room, tightly shutting the door behind me. He had no allies. No friends. No-one is going to miss him that much. When his face will appear in the sky tomorrow night, everyone will be thinking the same; _who was he again_? The boy who ran away, but never fully _got_ away from Garnet.

I begin walking around the walkway, stalking for someone else. Two deaths. One more and it couldn't have been more perfect.

As I walk past one window, though, a crackle of thunder illuminates the room through the glass that leaves it vulnerable.

Inside is someone.

Inside is _more_ than one person.

Inside is my next victim or victims.

More heads will roll tonight.

* * *

**Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Astor Sheen, District One.**

**Stitch Hill, District Eight.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Ten left. Who are you rooting for to make the final five? Also, who do you think Garnet has found?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.**

**I just want to give a personal shout-out to chuckesleaze, Astor's creator. I'm sorry she met her early demise, but I felt like I wasn't giving Astor enough justice. Phoebe, Stitch was brilliant and one of my favourites, but I kinda got lost on what else I could write for him. He was brilliant though!**

* * *

**It's that time again where there will be less POV's and chapters will get shorter!**


	14. Sing

**Sing.**

_Raise your voice every single time they try and shut your mouth._

* * *

**Chord Wickers, District Ten Male.**

* * *

"How about we stay in here?" I suggest, opening up the door to reveal the small room. "It'll be safe enough."

Theo just nods with a slightly grim expression, which doesn't help settle my discomfort around him. He's nice. A lot nicer than any of the other Careers. He got Garnet to stop staring at Samia at lunch, and I know that deep down, he isn't as bloodthirsty or evil as the rest of them. But the alliance out of the blue caught me off-guard. In fact, it caught me _massively_ off-guard. But, besides all the discomfort that lies around in the pit of my stomach, I feel... Safer. Safer than I ever did when I was on my own.

I sit down on the floor, watching Theo collect a bag, opening it up and pulling out a brown blanket. He hands it to me silently, and I smile back as a thank you.

"I don't see anyone nearby," Theo mumbles, staring out the window as I throw the blanket on the floor and sit on it. "I thought that Garnet or Astor might follow me at some point."

As if the Gamemakers are listening to him, a cannon sounds, causing the large window to vibrate. That makes eleven left now. So little and so quickly. At this rate, the Games might be over more sooner than anyone could have imagined.

Theo turns around, moving over and sitting down next to me.

"Why did you come to find me after the big, bad break-up then?" I ask when silence creeps up.

Theo takes a moment to reply, before a small smile cracks on his face. "You're probably one of the only people in here that I can stand. Besides Delaney, but you know, she's dead now."

He gets quiet at the end of the sentence, and somehow, I feel like he must miss her a lot. They probably grew up and trained together. They could have been best friends for all I know. And now, she's dead and he's alone, having to spend time with a stranger because he can't trust anyone else.

"Yeah, but why _me_? Why can you stand me over all the others?"

"It's a lot more complicated than you think," Theo decides, laughing a little. "No-one would ever understand it. Delaney barely did either, and she took my secret to her grave, ironically."

He lifts his morningstar in the air, placing it down by his side and then shifting his position to face me more directly. I notice the way his eyes are soft but alarmed. The wrinkles that I never saw before, have now started to expand on his forehead. Under his eyes are huge, light violet bags. He looked like a teenage boy, and now, he looks like he has aged about twenty years.

"Somehow, I feel like maybe we should have been allies all along," Theo decides again. "And your district partner, of course, because I knew you cared for her."

"I did. I never knew Sami, but... B-But I wanted to protect her. She needed someone and I guess, I guess I wanted to make sure that she had someone to look out for her..."

Theo places a hand on my knee, forcing a smile on his face. I doubt he's used to someone crying - can't see many Careers openly showing emotion besides anger.

"I can tell. I'm sorry for Delaney killing her."

That catches my attention, and I look up. "S-She did it?"

Theo nods. "Yeah... Garnet handed her one of the rocks and she used it on your partner."

The thought of Theo's district partner, rock in hand that's stained with Sami's blood, repeatedly being brought down on my skull, breaking skull and destroying bones... It _sickens_ me. Sickens me to the core. And somehow, I manage to feign a smile at Theo as I lie down, making sure to pat the lasso tightened in my belt. I put my hands under my head, noticing Theo staring at me as I let my eyes drift close.

It doesn't take me long to fall into sleep. A sense of calm I've never felt before rises and sits there, thick in the air, settling me.

I only wake back up when I hear another cannon. I snap up, freaking out and sweating. Everything is pure dark, and it's freezing. The blanket that Theo has clearly put over me slides down, pooling around my ankles I climb up, noticing Theo still staring out the window like before. He spins around when he hears my footsteps.

"Astor died," he says, but I don't know the name. When he sees my eyes in the moonlight, he answers properly. "Girl from One. Her name was Astor. She was the cannon early. She was... A lot more sound than the others."

"Not many Careers left then," I point out, looking at him, noticing how he looks even older under the soft, white light. "Just you, the guy from One and the girl from Four, then."

"Garnet and Lorelei," Theo answers for me. "Both strong competitors and both trained. It'll be tough."

I nod, noticing Theo still looking at me. I see the crack of a smile on his face as he steps forward, just as the crackle of a lightning bolt rings out. I don't see the figure standing outside the window until it's too late.

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

It happens a lot faster than I ever imagined. The door swings open rather harshly, a figure running it and tackling Chord, throwing his against the far wall. Chord smacks into hard, bringing down the assortment of orange backpacks with him. Somehow, somewhere in my mind, I react, running forward. The figure spins around to face me as I send a flying punch that connects, the shadow sprawling to the floor.

Another crackle of lightning.

It illuminates the figure's face, and he's finally revealed to be Garnet.

Chord is quick to get up, but so is Garnet, and Garnet prepares to run out the room. Chord runs after, me following him. Chord pulls out the lasso from his belt, opening it up and swinging it out hard. The small, thin rope stretches across the gap, snagging around Garnet's ankle and slamming him down into the floor.

He manages to break free as Chord runs forward, jetting out a kick into Garnet's stomach. He cries out in pain, but manages to swipe at Chord's own ankle, bringing him down too.

That's when I run forward.

Garnet gets up, grabbing Chord by the collar of his black shirt and throwing him rather easily to the side. Chord hits the glass window of a shop which then cracks slowly. I'm there, though, almost on top of Garnet when I punch out once more. Garnet dodges, throwing his own punch which also misses. His sword whistles as it swings for more, but I suck in my stomach and it narrowly scrapes by. It gives me enough time to bring up my weapon and try to bring it down, but Garnet is quick, clashing his sword against it as metal spits out.

We tussle for a moment, before my eyes move to Chord, whose slumped up against the window, unconscious.

As another metal sound spits out, Garnet laughs, a cross between light and dark. "Always knew it would be you and me, Theo!"

I don't know _why_ he bothers trying to call me out, and yet, I respond. "Always _knew_ I'd be able to beat you, Garnet."

I push harder with my weapon, causing Garnet to stagger back along the tiled flooring. I swing again, hoping to hit him, but it misses once more.

As I continue swinging, I can't move my eyes from Chord's body. I never knew he could fight. I never knew that he could get injured. I mean, sure, he's human and that's possible, but I just always saw him as this gentle giant who couldn't bleed because he could never be hurt, never be broken, never be killed. Yet, somehow, Garnet has reduced all my thoughts on him in one simple moment.

Garnet takes another swipe, and this time, it slices over my arm neatly, drawing blood. A skin wound.

It causes me to hiss in pain, though, and that gives Garnet enough time to swing forward again, knocking me to the floor. He stands over me tall, raising his sword, and I almost can see my life flash before my eyes. Instead, though, Chord appears out of nowhere and tackles Garnet off of me, sending them to the floor. I watch as they roll around, punching each other, until Garnet manages to tuck his knees under Chord's stomach and literally kicks him off of him.

Chord goes flying, tumbling around to the electrified barrier, barely missing it. That was _close_.

I stand up and run forward, swinging for Garnet once more, but he dodges much more stealthily than before and pushes me to the side, head first into the barrier, too. I only touch it briefly, but it's enough to send a wave of pain through my body, forcing me to the floor in agony.

Chord struggles to his feet, a slice wound very clear across his stomach, the material of his shirt ripped in two.

Garnet storms over. The storm stops, and slowly, sunlight begins to beam through the clouds, stripes of light streaming across the floor.

Garnet raises his sword. It comes down onto Chord's back. Chord screams in pain, Garnet laughs, the sword gets ripped out and Garnet runs off, a hobble in his step.

I blink a few times, trying to get the willpower to go over. Chord's body lays on the floor, squirming, a red puddle appearing around him. I crawl over, weak, hoping to save him. Needing to save him. He's managed to roll himself onto his back, face in the air, and I can see the colour draining from it as I get close.

"S-S-S-"

"S-Shush," I mumble, trying to snap myself out of it. "Shush."

"S-S-Sing for m-me..."

I see the forgotten harmonica laid near his body, just out of the pocket on his shorts. I pick it up, knowing I can't sing to save my life. I blow quietly, trying to think of some song I could sing for him. My eyes close as the words slip out shaky, a song that I'm sure everyone knows. An old lullaby.

_Hush, my child,_  
_ The end is near._  
_ There's no place to run,_  
_ There's nothing to fear._

_You've failed again,_  
_ But no worries, no pain,_  
_ Your ashes shall be cooled,_  
_ By the fall of the rain._

When I open them, I look straight into his eyes, the last amount of hazel just holding on. He smiles, a small tear forming in his right eye and sliding down. A cannon is quick to stab my heart, and like that, Chord is dead. I place the harmonica in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it as I lean forward, placing my lips to his cold ones. Bye Chord. _I love you_.

* * *

**Tauria Copin, District Seven Female.**

* * *

I don't know what to think or say or do when the next cannon fires.

I just bring my knees closer to my chest and hug them. Hug them because I don't know what else I can do. When the spiders came and ran, I crawled out, climbing into the Cornucopia among the boxes and just hiding here. No-one would bother to look down here, anyway, and that has had me lucky. Me and Zaira should have done this. We could have lasted longer rather than getting reckless. Not even her, just me. _I_ got reckless. _I_ got Zaira killed.

Tears roll down my face.

People might think of me as abandoning her. But, she was as good as dead, I panicked, I had no idea what I could do. I couldn't have saved her and I sure as hell couldn't have killed the girl from Four. Then, it's like a truck hits me. I couldn't have killed Four. I couldn't have. And yet, I picked a fight with her and attacked her rather than running. I couldn't have killed her, and yet, I decided I wanted to try and do it anyway.

I feel my heart sink to my stomach over that. I knew I couldn't do anything but I still went for it. The rays all hit the bottom of the floor, drying up the last patches of both rain and melted snow. So far, all types of weather; rain, snow and now a storm. Boiling hot in the day and freezing cold at night.

It's the roof. Back in Seven, it's the same. Some nights are colder than normal, some days are hotter than normal, all because the weather hits the windows on our house and then multiplies it. For some reason, that just makes me feel worse. The thought of never going home... It brings tears to my eyes. I try to smile. My smiles goes out, tears running over my lips, but it doesn't boost my mood. I tried to kill. I lost my ally. I don't know how much further I can truly sink.

I climb up, looking out the golden horn at the closest, moss-covered fountain.

Something seems strange about it.

I never remembered it being that dirty before. Then again, I didn't focus too much during the bloodbath. I attacked the girl from One when she went after Zaira, then, we ran as fast as we could.

I wonder if my family is watching. Whether my brother is watching, or if he's too hooked into his morphling that I'm nothing but a group of shapes and colours. The thought both angers me and creates a longing sensation in my stomach. It's like if I saw him again, I don't know whether I'd slap him or just hug him until he's blue in the face.

I don't even know if I'll get the chance to decide.

Stretching my legs out, I look through one of the backpacks, finding the rocks that taunted us at the beginning inside. I roll it around in my eyes, feeling the rough texture and absorbing the smell. Rock. It kinda reminds me of home too. You always have rocks in the woods around Seven. I used to play in them all the time with my brother before he turned. We'd play this game where you flick rocks at tree trunks and see how far they would bounce back. He was always better.

This one wouldn't do any good for that game, but the smell is enough to empower me of sorts. My hatchet is nearby. I found it in one of the shops after abandoning Zaira. Abandoned her. Because, no matter how much I try to sweeten it up, that's what I actually did. _I_ abandoned _her_. I grab the hatchet and sit myself up.

The next person to come near me... I'll kill. I have to. I need to.

I _want_ to.

* * *

**Koel Spelt, District Nine Male.**

* * *

"Quick! Get up!"

I jerk awake, seeing the blurred image of Alto, feeling Addilyn's hand on my arm, before a horrid crack and grinding noise happens, then, the sound of an explosion and something smacking into the back of my head. Alto's image disappears. Addilyn's touch disappears.

I hear the noise, but I don't hear it. It's weird. Life is _weird_. Somewhere, somehow, I feel like I'm floating. Addilyn is nearby but she's silent. She is pretty quiet, come to think. An arrow flies past my head, and I duck, but when I turn around, I see Alto, smiling with his poised arrow. He laughs, but no sound comes out. Then, the ground just drops, but I don't. I stay there, levitating in mid air, eyes wide and legs open. There's no breeze. No wind. Nothing. And yet, I'm floating and Addilyn is floating and Alto is floating. I can feel the cold fingers of fear scratching at my heart.

Addi turns to me and flashes a brief smile, before she drops quickly, hair whipping into her face.

I scream but nothing comes out.

Another arrow goes past my head, but when I look at Alto, his smile is gone. It's replaced with a grim expression as he fumbles for another arrow.

I follow his eye line, but see nothing as another arrow pings into the black abyss. Alto suddenly comes next to me, running his hand across my arm, smiling, and like Addilyn, drops down rather fast, his fringe falling in front of his eyes.

I want to scream again. I feel tears pricking at my eyes. Then, a wave of pain washes over my skull. I touch it, fingers damp and slick. It hurts. It hurts so bad...

"Koel, get up! Wake up Koel!"

That noise. I hear it again. Then, the world rushes up to me as I fall, getting closer and closer and closer and closer and _closer_...

"Koel!"

My eyes snap open, but are still hazy. Everything is blurred, Addilyn's screaming face in mine. The first thing I begin to notice is the large cut on her forehead, painted red. Her hand grabs and shakes me, but I feel surprisingly light. Then, her hand raises, sweeps forward and my cheeks burns. That snaps me out of it, but I wish it didn't. Addilyn goes bright red from her apparent slap as she helps me up, but the minute I'm on my feet, I wobble, about to fall when Alto catches me. The pain in my head seems more _real_ now.

"Addilyn, he's bleeding." he says grimly.

Around me, I see a large chunk of fiery rock cemented into the tiled floor, cracks around it and shattered glass littered all over. The room smells of burning clothing and flesh.

Alto drags me from the room, Addilyn close behind, and as me lays me on the ground, I see the hissing burn that stretches up his bare arm and across his thigh, just under the hem of his shorts. Addilyn only has the cut on her forehead, meaning she must have been more protected. Somehow, I feel the worse off. My head pounds and it's like I can _hear_ my pulse loud and clear in my ears.

"He's been hit bad," Alto mumbles, running his fingers through my hair, causing me to grit my teeth. "I can feel some glass under the skin."

"I don't know first aid," Addilyn replies rather quietly. "It _needs_ to come out, though."

Alto decides to do the task. Addilyn sits by me, holding my hand whilst Alto fumbles around for something in his backpack. She soothes me, whispering and telling me everything will be alright. I feel a slight bit of pain as Alto begins to dig into my head, before all of a suddenly, it's like someone as lit an open match to my skin. I scream, almost hitting Addilyn in the process. Everything begins to go black as Alto goes for another try. Addilyn's grip becomes a little lighter, but it's still there, and I hear Alto sigh in what I hope is relief.

"Did you get it out?" Addilyn asks.

I don't know what Alto says or replies, but Addilyn nods in response and looks at me.

"You'll be okay, Koel, you _know_ you'll be okay."

My eyelids slip shut, but I know I'm not dead. I can still hear them mumbling and whispering, before I fall into what I can only _hope_ is sleep.

* * *

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.**

* * *

Somehow, it doesn't feel right to attack them. I watched it happen. The sky went bright red for a second, and then, a large meteor of sorts, blazing fire, flew straight through down and directly through the electrical barrier, attacking something on the very top floor. I rushed up the steps out of curiosity only to see the little children out in the open. Nine looked injured. Very injured. As Eleven dragged him out, he left a thin red trail of blood behind him.

It didn't even damage the barrier. Just went straight through it and smashed through the glass window, hitting the kids on the inside, apparently.

The glass isn't there no more, instead, a large pillar of smoke erupts from the hole, black and thick, tendrils towering to the sky above.

I couldn't attack them. Not now. Not after that just happened to children so young. I wasn't even looking to kill them. I was looking to find and kill Garnet.

Slowly, I slip down the steps as the girl sits by her fallen ally and weeps openly. Then, my silent steps turn into a run. A _desperate_ run.

The sky flashes red again, turning the tiled flooring beneath my feet into a milky pink. I hear another explosion, but that's it. My legs carry me fast, fear taking place, assuming they might come after me when I so wish they wouldn't. I don't think I could handle it. Fire has always unsettled me. With spear in hand, I descend the next flight of steps, ignoring the possible threat of allies.

The bottom. That's where it would probably be the safest.

My boots hit the floor hard, also causing my knees to buckle underneath me. I try to keep calm. I try to control my breathing and regulate it out more evenly. I try so many different things to replace the fear that has seemed to settle somewhere in my stomach without me knowing. I wouldn't normally be scared. To be honest, I didn't even know I was capable of these kind of emotions.

After everything, after my mother leaving me and the family, I didn't think I would ever feel _true_ fear ever again. I was terrified beyond belief when she never came home. That fear soon turned into sadness before it turned into anger.

I was _never_ scared after that.

I turned all possible fears into strengths. A few things scare me like small spaces, it's never going to be something I can conquer, but I can hide the fear and allow myself to grow.

I cross the floor, my eyes trained on the glass roof above me.

Waiting for the flash of red and the possible drop of another flaming meteor. Waiting for something that could even land on me if I'm not careful, though I'm almost sure that it won't go straight. The tributes are up there in the shops, not on the plaza floor.

I don't even hear her move or react or anything. But then I look down. I see those eyes, the same eyes that looked at me when she tried to kill me and instead, I killed her ally, peering out from the darkness engulfed inside the Cornucopia. She slowly steps out, a hatchet in her hands, a steady look on her face.

"I guess you want revenge." I say, making sure Seven can see my spear.

"Not exactly," she replies evenly, taking her own pose and holding the hatchet proudly. "More like karma for Zaira."

* * *

**Sing by My Chemical Romance.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Chord Wickers, District Ten.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_I would love to know your favourite character that is left, and why they have your attention?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.**

* * *

**I feel like this sucks. I promise that it'll get more dramatic!**


	15. Try

**Try.**

_But just because it burns, d__oesn't mean you're gonna die. __You've gotta get up and try._

* * *

**Tauria Copin, District Seven Female.**

* * *

The air is thick in tension as we stare across from each other. Me and Lorelei; the girl who murdered my ally. Her spear rolls around in her hand, idle, waiting to be thrown and miss. I say it that with no conviction though. It _could_ hit. She has an advantage with a weapon that won't need to be close to hit. I mean, she could throw it and I don't doubt that she's a great shot, her score was proof of that.

"Aren't you going to make the first move?" I taunt her in the hopes that she'll throw, miss, and then I can kill.

"No chance," Lorelei smiles back, a mix of smug and honesty. "Tauria, isn't it? I am sorry about your ally. I wasn't actually going out of my way to hurt either of you two, yet _you_ attacked _me_?"

"You still killed her."

"Because you tried to kill me," Lorelei counters. "I'm sorry. She didn't do anything, and you're right, I should have killed you. However, you should have just ignored me and not bothered trying to take me out."

"Isn't that the point of the Games? The point of why you're trained for this all?"

I can see the spark of fire in her eyes at my last words, and that brings up a confident smile on my own face. So, the Career is conscious about actually being a Career. A strange complexity, if you think about. That's like me being conscious about being reaped, when really, there isn't much I could do about it. She had a chance to avoid it, and yet, she took up the opportunity to run through these halls and murder all the innocent children forced into this game of cat and mouse with the Careers.

"I volunteered for reasons your pretty little head would never be able to comprehend," Lorelei glares. "But, if this is your trick of baiting me out, it's not working. If anything, it's making me more pissed off when once again, I wasn't even thinking about killing you."

"Then why hold the spear like that?" I point to it.

"The boy from One, he's the one I wanted," Lorelei rolls her eyes. "If anything, it seems that you are stalking me in the hopes that you could take me down. Yet, you just mentioned I was trained for this and you wasn't, so..."

I open my mouth to respond, when she reacts quickly, pulling back the spear with frightening speed and launching it forward. It daggers through the air towards me and I throw myself down on the ground to avoid it. I hear her footsteps run over as I roll myself over, but her boot jolts out and kicks me in the side, knocking me back on my stomach. She wraps her hand in my short locks, forcing me up onto my feet, before she throws me backwards, my head smacking against the golden skin of the Cornucopia. I react, though, and manage to slap the back of my hand across her face. She staggers backwards but regains her composure quickly, too.

I take in a few deep breaths as I start to swing my hatchet, Lorelei avoiding it each time, silver just missing her skin. She ducks on the next go, delivering an uppercut into my stomach. The force is enough to force me to drop the hatchet as I fall to the ground in pain.

She growls, a guttural sound, as she delivers another kick into my stomach.

"Stupid girl," Lorelei hisses. "I didn't even want to kill you _or_ your ally!"

Another kick.

"I wanted to be on my _own_. To do my _own_ thing. _You're_ the one that keeps finding me, keeps trying to attack me!"

Another kick that causes a bit of blood to dribble down my chin from my lips.

"If anything, you got your ally killed. You want karma for something that you basically caused!"

The next kick makes me cry out as tears pepper my eyes. I can hear Lorelei's ragged breath. I can see stars everywhere, smothering the ground my face is pressed against. Just as I think it's over, another kick flies into my stomach. Everything starts to go numb and I can barely hear anything anymore. It's like water is lodged into my ears, blocking it all out. She disappears from near me, and when she returns, I know my fate is sealed. The sharp pain of the spear jabbing down into my back feels more like a tingle. I strain my eyes on the floor beneath me, watching it turn from white to a blood red.

I hear a grinding noise.

Closely followed by my cannon as the darkness engulfs me.

* * *

**Gavan Dior, District Six Male.**

* * *

Me and Cameron stand there, mouths agape at the destruction from across the gap. A large rock, the size of a small truck that often shipped mechanical parts around Six, sits in the middle of the room, glass haphazardly spread out around it, fire and smoke drifting out. We didn't see it coming, but the noise was like a bomb going off. Cameron shot up almost instantly, her hand wrapped around my wrist and yanking me up, too.

After our conversation, it's safe to say that Cameron has slightly returned. She'll never be the same after what happened, but for now, she has her spirit back, if only a little.

"A meteor," Cameron deadpans. "Are you fucking kidding me? That's the next type of weather to endure?"

Cameron looks at me with the usual, aggravated look on her face when she's not happy. But, somehow, it makes me smile. Not because she's unhappy or the fact they are now throwing flaming rocks down on us, but because if Cameron is angry and not acting sad, it means she's back, it means that she's going to continue rather than give up, which I was _so_ worried that she would do. Cameron spins around and walks over to collect another hatchet from the shop wall. Jack's one that she was using was left in Mirana's chest.

"Where are we going?" I ask, rubbing my hands together.

"I think we should leave," Cameron says, grabbing the backpack from the floor and chucking it at me to catch. "If that happened just now, it could come again, only this time, in our shop. Gotta keep mobile, my dear Gavan."

I hold the backpack close, slightly more worried than I should be and still trying not to smile at Cameorn's wit. A confusing set of feelings to handle. "And the other tributes?"

"We'll have to take them on," she flashes me the hatchet with a grim expression. "It's pretty obvious what they're doing. The rocks aiming at the shops? It's probably to smoke us out, you know, bring us all out onto the walkway to see and face each other. A bloody battle."

"It's getting boring." I say, finishing her sentence and watching her nod.

"Exactly," Cameron grabs another hatchet from the wall and begins to walk towards me, but I flinch, stepping back. "What?"

"You _know_ I don't like sharp objects," I defend myself. "They freak me out and they're dangerous, Cameron."

"You crawled across glass to save Mirana, Gavan, I think you've passed that."

"Nope."

"Gavan-"

"Nope," I say, holding my ground. "I done that out of madness, not will."

"You're the one that said this place turns people crazy," Cameron smirks, but it's just not the same as before. "Change crazy to mad, and then, you're a hypocrite."

Something tells me not to really fight it anymore. I feel defeated as it is. We've lost two allies. A giant spider has attacked. The weather is changing so constantly, it's hard to get your body to feel comfortable in it, and to top it off, flaming rocks are now showering down on us. Yet, Cameron just shrugs and keeps the hatchet, looping it through her belt so that the sharp part sits near her chest.

"I'll remind you not to hug me."

"I wouldn't anyway," I say with a half-smile. "Germs and all."

"And here I was thinking you were becoming sane," Cameron smiles softly. "Glad to have you back, Gav."

She walks pass me and runs her hand across my shoulder, before I follow. Outside the door, nothing seems worse, except the smoke from the rock towering up to the sky, meeting another spiral of thick smog. We heard the crash earlier and Cameron freaked for that, too, but we didn't see anything. Now, it's obvious that the first meteor of the day hit the floor two above us. I wonder if anyone is up there, affected? We'll never know.

Cameron sneaks around the walkway, much like when we went down to play in the snow; when everything began to fall apart slowly.

Somehow, it reminds me of being home, being around white and clean tiles. At home, I cleaned. I cleaned day in and day out, making sure there wasn't a speck of dirt or grime around my house to possibly attack me in the night. Some people think I act irrational or just plain crazy. Really, I don't see anything wrong with my personality. I care about what happens to my body; more people should. Then again, it didn't help my parents being totally slobs and never bothering to really lift a finger. If it wasn't for me cleaning the house, then it would never be tidy. I couldn't handle that. I just couldn't.

"Are you okay?" Cameron whispers, snapping me out of my trance.

When I look at her confusingly, I realise that once again, I'm rubbing my hands together frantically over the mere thought of it all. A sort of comfort for me when everything gets crazy. Cameron gently moves her hand over, laying it on top of mine and softly smiling. Usually, I'd be freaking out about her touching me; about the germs and the diseases that lie on her skin, waiting to jump onto mine. But in a place like this where violence and dirt is obvious, you can't exactly avoid it all.

With her hand still on mine, me and Cameron walk slowly around the walkway, my eyes trained on the ground. That's when I see the white tiles flash a pink, followed by a grinding noise of sorts. Our heads snap up as the roof shoots out a fiery rock that hurtles towards us. Cameron yanks my wrist as hard as she can as she launches forward. We fly past the glass window of a water bottle shop as the rock crashes through it, _just_ missing us. The explosion sets us off our feet, pushing us to the floor, and with a thump, I headbutt the tiles.

Stars pepper my vision, but Cameron yanks me up as another grinding noise happens, followed by another explosion just a few metres from where we were before.

Everything is a blur, Cameron dragging me around the walkway and down a broken escalator as more meteors rain down on us, crashing through the shops, smoking us all out.

* * *

**Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.**

* * *

The chaos around us is evident. The first meteor hit us, the next went down and hit another level, and then, it was like rapid gun fire. Constant molten rocks just firing one after the other at all the windows. I haven't heard no screams, so no-one's been taken out, but that didn't stop Alto from worrying. He grabbed Koel's unconscious body roughly, dragging him along the walkway and into the hall that the stairs are protected by.

It's not ideal, but it's encased by cement, and that might camouflage us from the shower.

But, my eyes never leave the barrier. The rocks just pass through them like they don't exist. It's solid and electrified, but goes translucent when the rocks pass through. It fades, the rock passes, and then it crackles as it comes back. It's interesting. One moment it's electrified, the next moment it's like a water wall, standing tall but blending.

"Addilyn, we need to raise his head," Alto says, and so, I scoop my hands under Koel's hand and lay it on the step above. "It needs to stay up, otherwise, the glass might slip further downwards."

Alto couldn't get the glass out, but I wasn't going to tell Koel that. Besides, Koel fell unconscious straight after, probably from shock. Then, I cried. I _cried_. Not something I thought I would ever be able to do in public. Back home in Three, my parents are rich and high. We come from a high social standing family, and so, etiquette and poise are a must. From that, I was told to not show emotion. To not cry or get angry.

'_To be seen and not heard_' - that was the most repetitive saying. To be around to let everyone believe they are family-orientated people, but not speak, because children just don't do that in front of company or important people.

"Addi..." Alto mumbles quietly. "H-He's not going to last long."

"I know." I reply numbly.

I can see the conflict in Alto's eyes. Something tells me he never meant to get this attached. Another crash happens outside, only this time, it's followed by a piercing scream. A girl's, but no cannon follows in the silence that falls. It doesn't seem like long, but hours flood by as each window gets pulverized by the oncoming rocks. One after the other after the other. It smashes all the windows in the entire arena, smoking us out, leaving everyone well and truly out in the open. It gets darker and cold as night arrives.

The sky goes pitch black after a while, white streaks of light pushing across the floor barely; everything else is covered by the thick smoke that invades the air.

The anthem plays out, confirming the three recent deaths since the girl from One jumped into the sky.

The girl from Seven is the first picture to appear, a confident, happy smile on her face that just reminds everyone that she was a girl, killed for survival, and her personality couldn't save her. She's followed by the boy from Eight, face stony, and then, the boy from Ten, who looked like one of the biggest contenders besides the Careers. My heart sinks a little after that. Three Careers still wander the walkway out of the eight remaining tributes.

Count me, Alto and Koel out of that, two other tributes still walk...

I don't remember who until after a while since I haven't seen them at all. The girl from Five and the boy from Six; both still alive, maybe dying, maybe bleeding out right now, could even be the scream from earlier. We'll never know until the cannon rings out. I breathe in hard, letting my breath come out in a thick, clear smoke. My teeth chatter and Alto hands me a blanket from the backpack he saved.

"We're nearly there," Alto mumbles again. "Seven more to die."

"Which means either you or me or both of us." I reply through the chatter of my teeth.

That suddenly brings a whole new meaning to this. Here we are, the three of us with an ally already dead, fighting together, working together, surviving together; in a game where together doesn't exist. Where you can't walk away with your friend, your ally, the only person whose kept you sane. No. They have to die in order for your heart to continue beating. And that's... That is really sad. I want to go home but I don't want Koel or Alto to die. Alto looks at me and smiles softly.

"It won't be either of us," Alto runs a hand over Koel's shivering form, checking his skin and pulse. "If anyone out of us will survive, it's you, Addi."

"Not necessarily."

"Very necessarily," Alto laughs a little which releases the tension a bit. "You have more potential than both me and Koel put together."

"Not nec-"

"Yes, don't argue," Alto smirks. "I might have killed a Career, but it was a moment of madness. I doubt I could do it again. You could electrify this whole arena and kill us all if you really thought about it."

The silence creeps up on us quickly; me, Alto and Koel just sat in the darkness, dressed alike, shivering, injured differently with the pain still the same. The light seems to make Alto's burns more prominent. The smoke continues to wisp through the air, and somehow, I'm too focused on that to notice the footsteps coming closer and closer until it's right on top of us. Alto snaps his head around, the hand finding his face and whipping across. He slams against the steps and rolls down the rest of the way. I look, and through the illumination, I notice the girl from Four; the Career.

She launches across with wild eyes as I throw myself over Koel's unconscious body. Her hands grasp at my back and yank me upwards, swinging and throwing me back out along the walkway. I slide against the smudged tiles, eyes still locked on Four as she climbs over slyly and wraps both her hands around Koel's throat. He can't fight back. A scream bubbles from my throat as I run forward. I don't know what I'm doing until I'm there, but as I get near and she looks up, my fist flies outwards, connecting with her chin. She releases her grip and from behind, I watch Alto notch an arrow.

He pulls the string back, lets go, and it pings forward.

He's not a perfect shot. The arrow slices straight through Four's body, through the back and out the stomach on the side of her abdomen. She howls out in pain and blood pours from the wound, and that's when I finally notice the green puss and liquid oozing from a burn stretching up her legs. She must have been the scream earlier. I fumble for the wires in my backpack, wrapping it around the tip of the arrow as Four staggers back and forth, eyes rolling into her head. Running across the gap, much like the spider, I throw the exposed end of the wires against the barrier. I watch with wild and scared eyes as bolt after bolt surges into Four's body. It convulses, blackens and smokes, until she drops and a cannon fires.

I let out a relieved sigh.

And then, the second cannon booms straight after.

Everything tightens in my body as I stagger forward. Alto climbs up the stairs, unharmed, apart from the green puss starting to bubble in his exposed wound. Our eyes meet and I know he's thinking exactly the same. We move our eyes to Koel's body, laid next to Four's blackened one. Alto bends over and places two fingers to his neck, letting out a gurgled, held cry when it's confirmed.

_Koel is dead_.

And like before, the emotions catch up to me. They spill from my eyes. I never would have cried when I was back in District Three. I'm not there, though, am I? After all of this, if I was to go back, I couldn't live the same. I just _couldn't_.

I'm just _not_ the same person anymore.

* * *

**Try by P!nk.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Tauria Copin, District Seven.**

**Lorelei Avalon, District Four.**

**Koel Spelt, District Nine.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Final six! One more has to die before the final five are revealed. Who do you think should not make the final five? _**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.**

**krigoo, Jaine and especially Bells, your tributes were fantastic and I'm sorry they didn't make it!**

* * *

**There is exactly 3 chapters for the Games left.**

**This time, though, I'm going to write an extra chapter after the final fight. It'll be set outside the Games with our Victor, concerning their interview with Caesar, looking over the best bits and all that, much like Katniss and Peeta did once they were set free. Then, the obituaries and life after for the Victor will be posted, rather than being posted alongside the final fight. Just a warning for you all.**

**Shorter chapters expected!**


	16. Demons

**Demons.**

_When you feel my heat_, _look into my eyes, i__t's where my demons hide._

* * *

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

A whole day has gone since Koel died. Me and Addilyn didn't feel right about leaving him there alone. We waited from afar as the metal teeth picked him and Four up, one after the other, and later that night, both of their faces beamed onto the roof. Four's mysterious persona and Koel, standing tall and grinning from ear to ear, not a care in the world. That was Koel. Always smiling despite everything.

No other cannons have sounded and no other screams have been heard. The first day we've been here where someone hasn't died. We walk slowly along the walkway,

"Alto, y-you need to sit down."

Everything suddenly feels so heavy, like I'm almost drowning, cinderblocks tied to my feet as the river water rises.

Addilyn places her hands on my shoulders, lowering me to the floor. She's shaken, her hands clearly jittering as she fumbles in the backpack for something. She pulls out a piece of food, though I don't know what, slowly pushing it past my lips until I finally take it. I chew, trying my hardest to ignore the smell of burned flesh filling the air, making everything seem so repulsive.

"She got burned, too," Addilyn finally says after a while, referring to Four, probably. "I think it got infected. It might be something on the meteor."

Her tiny finger points to the welting burn that sits just underneath my shorts. I never noticed it before, but now it's been pointing out, I can't help but notice the tiny twinge of pain that slowly draws out. After a while, it becomes more numb and heavy.

"B-B-B-" I try to make a word, but it fails.

"I-I don't know what to do," Addilyn mumbles, a well-known fear placed in her eyes, obscured by her blonde hair. "I-I can't save you."

My lips feel parched and cracked. I run my tongue over them, which feels fuzzy, but I still strain my eyes on the girl in front of me. The girl who ironically saved me from being alone. I came here and was determined to not ally myself, and if I had to, then I wanted an alliance founded upon handiness and abilities, not attachment. Attachment isn't something I'm used to. Back home, I get to see my parents once a year during Harvest. Being young and white-skinned, I was separated from my parents because they were elderly, useless, whilst I was fit and ready to be trained in the art of a Scarecrow.

When I see them, it's like looking at different people.

They look different every year; always wearing a different mask of emotions for us. They stay quiet, they don't hug us, they don't really interact as much as they should. Sometimes, I feel like it could be that they feel guilty over their children's lives.

A scream bubbles and bursts from my throat as another wave of pain washes over me. I watch as Addilyn plucks a water bottle from the bag before ripping a piece of her top off, revealing her pale stomach. She soaks the cloth by tipping the entire bottle of water over it, leaning over and dabbing the exposed burn on my thigh. I hiss from the cold meeting the hot, but it soothes. Not much, but enough to not scream in pain each time she dabs the cloth. Each little press gains a gurgled cry from me and a soft, comforting smile from Addilyn.

I never expected us to get this far, come to think of it. At the end of the day, kids are age and from the districts we were born and bred from just don't produce Victors or survivors. Eleven is classed as an outlying district alongside Nine, Ten and Twelve. Losers in their own aspect, barely producing worthy tributes. Three, well, Three are always underrated.

The pain subsides until Addilyn takes the cloth away. This time, though, it comes as fast and hard as when I first got burned.

A scream launches itself from my throat.

Addilyn looks startled, and when I manage to blink back the tears and blurriness, I glance down to my burn. Now, green foam and puss begins to mar the burn and smother it. It looks painful, but surprisingly, the power of the burn still overpowers it.

"We've been here exactly a week," Addilyn says, probably trying to make me forget the pain. "A whole seven days. Well, yesterday was the seventh day."

"D-D-Doesn't feel like it."

Addilyn nods in response. We sit there in silence for a moment before Addilyn scoots away. I can sense the fear radiating off her like the animals back in Eleven, when their wary eyes met tip of my arrow, poised in the bow. She's scared of me. Truly scared.

She would be, though. Who says the infection isn't what drove Four insane?

I never thought about that. The infection _could_ have overpowered Four's mind and sent her insane. Then, she found us and decided to kill the boy who happened to be vulnerable compared to the boy with the bow and the girl with the wires.

_He was easy pickings. You wanted to come out alive, Alto, and now you've let your heart win._

It's been a while since I allowed my heart to rule my head. Only Inuka ever done that, until she ran away. Addilyn and Koel somehow managed to do the same to me, with their elusive personalities and kind manners, open attitudes and warm hearts.

When I look at Addilyn, though, she's split in two. Her body shakes and warps, fuzzy and blurred around the edges. The only thing that stays completely prominent is the bright hair. Her trademark bleach locks. She looks at me confusingly until the hair begins to change shape. The colour disappears, replaced by a forest green colour. At first it looks like hair, but then, it begins to hiss and snip, beady eyes protruding from the ends. Addilyn's face, once pale and kind, turns scaly and gruesome, sharp shark teeth shooting out from her gums. I blink a few times to try and make sense of what is happening, but Addilyn is no more. Addilyn has been replaced by something else.

Maybe she was always like that. I don't know. I try to stagger back, her reptile face tilting to the side. Panic overwhelmes every part of my body. I try to grab my bow, but it seems so far away, like an animal running. My heart rate quickens as I claw the ground, Reptile-Addilyn standing to her feet, still staring at me with the many, beady eyes in her hair.

I manage to get to my feet and grab my bow and arrow.

I spin around lightning quick, ignoring the sweat that runs down my forehead and past my eyes, and unleash the arrow. It flies through the air and Reptile-Addilyn doesn't have much time to react. It lands directly in her shoulder.

_It's going to hurt you, Alto, so do it. Kill it quickly._

"Alto, _please_, d-d-don't."

It stands there, swaying from side to side. "_Don't_ try to m-move monster."

It doesn't respond, but the snakes screech and spit at me angrily. It steps back, ready to try and use a ploy against me. I run forward, though, and it spins around. Reptile-Addilyn tries to run away, but I won't allow it to take over my friend. It doesn't deserve to be in her body, controlling her. I catch up, and with a thrust, I tackle the creature to the ground, ignoring the screech and trail of slime.

"A-A-Alto."

_It's going to hurt you! Kill it now!_

I struggle to slip an arrow from my holster, bringing it forth and preparing to stamp it down on the monster's forehead. I'm doing this for Addilyn. I'm doing it to save her. She's too kind and quiet to be taken over so easily. The Gamemakers won't get away with it. They won't get to mutilate her features and turn her into something else. This is for her.

The facial features begin to morph.

_Do it now!_

The scales disappear and the snakes fall off the hair and slither away. Pale features, kind eyes and blonde hair returns.

"Addilyn?" I mumble, shaken by what's happened.

But then it snaps back to the horrified creature. It was a rouse. I go to bring the arrow down when seering pain travels through my body, making my insides feel like they're being cooked from the inside out. I feel weak, falling off of the creature. Everything begins to go dark as Addilyn, the real Addilyn, climbs into view. Tears streak her face and she places a kiss to my forehead.

"I-I-I-I'm s-sorry."

A loud cannon rings out as the pain subsides.

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

The newest cannon shakes the arena, Gavan's hand tightening around mine through reflex. I instantly turn to him and register the same look of sorrow and desperation that happened once Jack and Mirana's deaths had sunken in. A crackle of static wavers through the air almost straight after, Claudius no doubt ready to announce what I've expected from him this whole time. My heart hammers in my chest and Gavan's grip only tries to encourage me to calm down.

I don't even know why I'm scared, truth be told. One moment I feel fine, like I could handle this, and then the next, I feel like another step could cause my body to just crumble beneath my feet.

"Well done to the remaining tributes of the 66th Hunger Games! For your participation, we are holding a feast! Each of you needs something desperately, and each of you will find that something within a backpack marked with your district number by the Cornucopia. Think about it, my dear tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The voice evaporates as quickly as it appeared, and a sigh of relief escapes my body.

"You okay?" Gavan asks quietly.

I turn to him, ignoring the small fire of rage in my body that wants to smack him for such a stupid comment. "Peachy. I'm not looking forward to what is about to happen."

"The feast?"

"Correct," I sigh once more, standing from our sitting position on the floor. "The remaining tributes will all head there, you, me and the other three. Which, no doubt, will include two Careers."

"That only leaves the little girl from Three and the boy from Eleven... Do you think one of them has died?"

"Probably," I shrug, trying not to think of a little child, splattered and cold, laid out on the fall of the arena alone. "I wouldn't say a Career fell just yet. They've been dropping like flies lately and the boys from One and Two seemed the most dangerous."

Gavan pauses for a moment before joining me at my side. His hand rests timidly on my shoulder, his fear of germs no doubt taking place once more now that the chaos has calmed down. I wouldn't blame him. The tricks this arena can play are disturbing... One moment you feel like everything might be okay, you might be able to return, you might survive just another day - and then, meteors of fire rain down, giant spiders go on the attack and smoke fills the air. I grip the hatchet a little bit harder, making sure it stays away from Gavan but is ready to be swung and thrown if needed.

"Should we go?"

"What do we need?" I laugh dark. "They've taken everything from us besides our lives. Unless it's a key to unlock the arena, we don't need it."

Gavan frowns slightly. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," I sigh once more. "I'm just... On edge at the moment. And I _don't_ know which way I'm going to fall just yet."

"Then don't fall."

"You make it sound _easy_, Gavan."

"It is," Gavan reassures me, spinning me around with his hands on my shoulders. He flinches when he sees the hatchet, but maintains a strong hold. "You need to remember that it's a game we play. Only one winner and, to play the game, you need a clear head."

"Once again proving my point that one of us is sane whilst the other is close to breaking point," I chuckle quietly, trying not to allow the emotions to slip out; a single tear does, though. "I don't know how much longer I can cope with this all."

"Four more tributes to die. That's how longer."

The way Gavan says it, though, it's like he's already given up himself. The four tributes to die includes him, and he's almost certain that he will die and I will be the Victor. I could die. Gavan could die. We both could die and a Career, like many years, will claim the title for themselves. The boy from Two is strong but lacks the evil whereas the brute from One is strong and evil, but lacks brains.

"We need to go down there. They just smoked us out... They aren't going to let us avoid the beloved feast now."

"I know," I nod in return, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe. "I do know. I guess we should do it then. Because, you know that this is the end, right?"

"End of what?"

I manage to find another laugh once more. "The end of it all. Rarely do Games last beyond the feast. It's basically bloodbath number two."

"So our glorious winner will be announced in a short moment then," Gavan's head dips a little, no doubt the reality of things catching up to him a lot faster than he anticipated. "Well, we haven't go that much to lose."

"We have everything," I say without a second thought. "But, you know, c'est la vie."

We begin to walk out of the shop, window smashed to shards, looking out finally to see the sky, orange and pink, a false sunset ready to fall. It almost looks peaceful and quaint compared to the ash covered ground, poisoned air and constant smell of burning rock. A true contrast indeed. We slowly move across the dirty walkway, amazed by the amount of glass that litters the ground. Gavan steps on a piece, crying into his fist.

"Did it really hurt you?" I whisper, for some reason becoming worried about the others being nearby.

"No," Gavan admits. "It was just sharp, that's all."

"You're losing it again."

"No I'm not."

I huff, scooting past the last shop, dipping my foot down onto the step. Luckily, the steps, covered and protected, didn't get damaged whatsoever. We creep down quietly, me with a weapon and Gavan with his crazy. Not the perfect combination, but then again, our alliance was more domesticated rather than threatening. A pang of remorse stretches through my body over Jack and Mirana once more, but I try to hide it for now as we climb down more stairs.

Later, I can grieve.

Now, I _must_ kill.

* * *

**Garnet Stone, District One Male.**

* * *

The sunset quickly evaporates into the sky, leaving it black, dotted with white stars. Around the glass, though, black smoke piles up. I watch with fascinated eyes as the smoke just molds into the glass and begins to disappear on it's own. Almost like a vent, but not a vent. A smile forms on my face at what I just thought up.

It's true what they say; people _do_ change over time.

People have always assumed I'm some dumb Career, capable of using a sword but unable to do math. They are partially true, I'm more brawn than brains, but that doesn't make me an idiot. If someone is about to kill you, what will help you, being able to fight back or doing math? Numbers might be great but they aren't going to deflect a sword or thrown knife. Muscle needs to be able to do that, and well, that's why I'm here and a lot of the other tributes aren't.

The anthem blares, taking me out of my thoughts.

The only face to pop up is the little boy from Eleven who shot Delaney twice with arrows.

That only leaves me, Theo, the girl from Three and the little allies from Five and Six. Outlying districts no longer have a contender to take food home for them. I swing my sword, a held laugh erupting from my throat. It's been quite a few days now; eight to be exact. I doubt anyone would have cared to actually count each passing day, but I did, trying my hardest to cement the memories of my Games.

I spin the sword again, but it falls out my hand and falls to the floor, metal ringing out. The dried blood of my last victim, Ten, is stained on the end, red tendrils creeping up the blade.

My goal is to get four other tendrils to crawl up it. Four other victims to add to my plenty.

I've probably killed the most in here. Funny how that happens. Everyone assumed I wasn't capable of it, and now, I've proved them all wrong. If only I could watch them laugh. I stop, heart beating loud, when I hear the faint sound of footsteps, about two, slowly creeping across the floor. I throw myself against the wall, sword poised, ears alert. The steps continue to patter, one after the other, proving to be two sets of feet.

Five and Six, probably, since that is the only alliance I can remember from who is left.

I tilt my head to the side when I see two distinct shadows underneath the false moonlight. Neither notice me pressed against the hollow hole that was once a window. They were nothing but simple glass to leave everything up and to leave everyone vulnerable. Now, they don't exist - nothing but shattered glass. This one wasn't even hit by a meteor, the shop next door was, and the vibrating or something must have took this one down too.

Five and Six begin to near closer, and you can't miss the flash of silver reflected from the moon. So, the girl is carrying a weapon.

This'll make it _more_ fun.

Streams of light touch my foot, but leave the rest of me pressed into the shadows.

They get closer. My sword twitches in my hand, ready to strike, just waiting to kill another.

Then, they're almost on top of me.

"Gavan, I think we should go down to there and then g-"

My sword, with a mind of its own, flicks out at a frightening speed. I smile as I feel the pressure around the tip, metal piercing flesh, followed by a scream. I yank the blade out, the boy from Six staggering back and holding a hand to the hole cut deep into his upper thigh. Blood pours out quickly, dripping ominously against the floor, and the girl from Five just screams. Screams aloud. But not terrified and most definitely not from being scared.

It's a guttural, animal scream.

A _fighter's_ scream.

* * *

**Demons by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Alto Boulevard, District Eleven.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Our final five are announced; Garnet, Theo, Addilyn, Cameron and Gavan. Who do you want to make final three and who do you think will make final three?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.**

**Moonlight, your tributes have always fascinated and amazed me. Alto's backstory was just pure genius. I loved him so much.**

* * *

**Two more Games chapters! Whose excited?**

**Okay, discussing Alto's death, I understand it will be confusing to understand and read. Lorelei didn't want to attack the littles - she made that clear. But she was the scream, burned by the rock, and inside the rock happens to be a poison similar to Tracker Jacker poison that causes hallucinations. Lorelei attacked under the poison. Alto, burned similar, attacked Addilyn under the same pretenses.**

**Yeah, so, it was confusing because in my mind, it would have confused Alto.**

**New layout, too! Who likes it? :D also, apologies for the delay, it was so hard to decide on deaths and such. :'(**


	17. I Will Not Bow

**I Will Not Bow.**

_Leave the lost and dead behind, now's your chance to run for cover._

* * *

**Gavan Dior, District Six Male.**

* * *

The blood squeezes past my fingers, continuing to gush outwards. It's amazing at how quickly my head becomes dizzy, and as I stagger backwards mindlessly, I fall. I hit the ground hard in time to see the boy from One emerge from the shadows, his sword stained bright red. Cameron screams, hatchet in hand, as she takes a swing at him.

One avoids the hatchet pretty well, but the silver slices across his stomach, tearing the material of his shirt but not drawing blood.

But that doesn't stop Cameron.

She targets his stomach once more with the hatchet, but One deflects it with his sword, the sound of metal on metal scraping out.

Blood begins to pool around my body, and as I shakily withdraw my hand from the wound, I can see the damage. The sword has cut straight through the shorts, skin and into my bone. From here I can see the faint, visible mark of my bone, surrounded by blood and torn flesh. The sight is gruesome and makes me want to be sick, tears peppering in my eyes. I squeeze them tight as Cameron tries another blow, gaining a roar from One in return. When I try to open my eyes once more, everything is both fuzzy and dark, the blood on the floor only growing and growing. I don't know why I can't move, but even if I could, my leg wouldn't be able to support me. One targeted the one thing that could have been his downfall. He took me out so he only had to fight one-on-one, not at a disadvantage.

He's _surprisingly_ smart.

One manages to swing his sword around and slash forward. This time, Cameron doesn't avoid it, but rather the blade slices across the top of her arm. Blood instantly falls down at a rapid pace.

Cameron screams in both pain and anger.

One roars like a rabid animal, feral and wild.

They clash their weapons, both taking a few cuts here and there, but never enough to actually cause serious harm. The whole time, my body feels both heavy and light, a mixture of the both tugging me in and spinning me around. My head swims as One cuts Cameron once more.

"C-Cameron," I manage to choke out. By now, my lips are chapped and my throat has gone dry. "C-Cameron."

Cameron, alerted by my noise, spins around and looks at me. For some reason, her eyes aren't the same eyes of the girl I knew. The girl I knew from training and the early stages of the arena. The eyes that silently wept over her district partner's death. The eyes that silently blamed herself for the things that had happened. The eyes that silently sealed Mirana's fate. These eyes... These eyes are that of a wild animal.

But by looking at me has caused Cameron to miss a step.

One launches forward, but not with his sword. Instead, he slams his shoulder into her back, forcing her to the floor. Her hands skid out against the ash-covered ground mixed with my blood, her body bathing in it. Cameron spins over, but not before One jerks out his foot hard and kicks Cameron in her ribcage. She cries in agony, the white top she wore now drenched, clinging to her with my blood as the glue.

One looks at me with a careful, calculating look. "I'll deal with you after."

I'm too weak to even respond. My lips open and close without saying anything, Cameron stirring on the ground just a few feet away.

I'm helpless. I can't save her. I can't protect her. All this time, Cameron has been trying to protect all of us and has failed. She couldn't save One from jamming his sword into Jack's back and she couldn't save Mirana from losing her state of mind. Now, she can't save me or herself.

One leans over, fisting Cameron's hair until the strands wrap around his hand. He lifts her up easily with the Career strength he possesses, and with another smirk at me, swings her down as hard as possible against the ground, head first. There's a sickening squelch as Cameron's head makes contact with the tiles extremely hard. No blood pools, but then again, with my blood everywhere, you wouldn't be able to tell.

Cameron lays on the ground limply.

"Well, that was easy," One laughs darkly, turning around to look at me once more. "Time to finish you off then."

With sword in hand, One crosses the small distance from Cameron's limp body to my own, a gruesome glare in his eyes. I'm too weak to even fight back as One carelessly kicks my leg, laughing at how I don't respond. Even a slight movement of my head sends me into a state of shock. One small, tiny movement, and it's like my body is being thrown off a cliff. The same feeling you get when you fall out of bed. That's why I stopped sleeping on them. Too dangerous for my liking.

My heart beats rhythmically as One raises the sword up high. My head swims as it begins to come down ever so slowly, One's face a mask of excitement and terror.

Surprisingly, though, I see Cameron, blinking hard and fast, kicking out her leg.

Before, she could never fight. She barely managed to save herself in the bloodbath.

Now, the arena has changed her. She's become a survivor.

One doesn't notice, and quite funnily, the smirk is wiped off his face as falls down to the floor with a hard thump. Cameron pulls herself onto her feet, but she's still in a state of dizziness, my eyes constantly smacking open and closed. She wobbles back and forth as One rolls over and climbs up. Her hatchet, just a bit of distance away from her, thrown from her hands as she fell, is quickly picked up. It's almost like time slows down as One and Cameron stare at each other for less than a second, before Cameron's hatchet leaves her hand, spinning angelically through the air towards him.

The hatchet springs into One's shoulder blade, and an abrupt growl escapes his throat. He's injured, like a wounded animal, his feral eyes skipping over the scene briefly before he turns around and begins to run away. Cameron seems confused by this, but her body can barely hold her up, and she falls to the ground hard.

"G-Gavan, a-are you okay?"

My lips open and close again, but no sound.

She looks at me with glazed-over eyes before mumbling a single word. Her eyes slip shut and her body falls backwards.

Silence falls over, the only sound I can really hear is my own heartbeat and the gentle thudding of something else.

My eyes, ever so slowly, try to close. I fight it despite feeling so surprisingly weak. I want to be sick and I want to cry. I want to scream and I want to run.

I _can't_ do anything, though; not with an ally now unconscious and my own body slowly but surely collapsing with every breath I take. I know I'm dying. I can tell by my shallow breaths and the way my whole body racks with pain as I try to fight the darkness looming over. I strain my eyes to look at Cameron, her hair sprawled over her face, but there's no sign that she's going to wake up.

I _can't_ fight it any longer. My eyes slide shut.

Fear and panic rises in my chest. I feel the tears building behind my eyelids. I'm going to die alone. I came here, made friends, watched two of them die and now, I'm left all alone and no-one will be around to hold my hand as I go. I'm scared. I'm so scared of what might happen.

I _don't_ want to die alone.

* * *

**Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.**

* * *

I keep my hand pressed against the hole in my shoulder, trying to staunch the flow of my blood. Tears continue to silently trail down my face but I hold everything back as I stagger forwards, attempting to make my way downwards. My feet bounce lightly against the black tiled flooring, the electrical pop of the barrier to my left, the destroyed shops to my right. My top, once white, is now a crimson coloured, painted by my own.

I've never experienced pain like I did when Alto shot me.

He wasn't in the right frame of mind when he done it. The most obvious connection between his actions and that of Four must be the infection caused by the burns. It could have been a poison of some kind that affects the nervous system and makes people hallucinate. That could be the only explanation of him referring to me as a monster, wanting to free Addi from the tentacles of the creature.

The thought of it almost makes me _sick_.

I didn't want to kill him but I didn't want to die. It's the case of morals; allowing someone else to live or living yourself.

He was but seconds of releasing an arrow into my forehead. But, we was right next to the barrier and my wires, my precious wires that have proved invaluable, were tied into my fist. It took but a second to electrocute him, and the whole time, I _wished_ that he would survive the electrocution, and that the volts might have just restored his brain to normality rather than swimming in hallucinogens.

I never wanted to be the one to kill him. I never wanted to lose Koel or Alto in such a short space of time. It might have been a day apart, but that doesn't matter - I barely allowed myself to cope after Koel's death, and now, I have to live knowing that I actually murdered the one person that has shown nothing but kindness to me. Beetee and Wiress did, but that was more on a professional level. Gage showed nothing but hatred and Ashton was, well, just Ashton; a nasty, foul-mouthed child.

I stop, moving my hand away from the harsh hole blemishing my skin. The sight isn't as horrid as I expected, but the fresh air brings a whole new pain to it and I have to bite down on my lip to not cry. I wipe my hand across my tear-stained cheeks and continue to move along, heading down a flight of stairs and then another.

My eyes strain as I look at the two bodies laid on the floor, sharing a pool of blood that's laced by the ash and soot from the meteors. I instantly know that it's the girl from Five and the boy from Six. His white blonde hair was always something that rivaled my own. Tentatively, I creep forward and scan over them. No cannons have gone off since Alto's, so neither of them are classed as dead yet. The blood, though, must be coming from the wound in Six's thigh. Either they've had a fight or som-

I cut my own thoughts off, my heart in my throat. A small trail of blood goes between my legs and away.

One of the Careers - either One or Two - must have attacked them. I turn my head around and follow the trail of blood away. It descends down the next flight of stairs, the ones I was planning on going down myself.

I almost scream when a cannon finally sounds. With my hand held against my heart, I step forward towards the bodies, wondering which one is actually dead.

Anyone could tell that Six, with a final breath, must have succumbed to his injuries.

I should feel ecstatic that we're down to the final four, final three if Five doesn't recover or if one of the Careers find her. But I don't. Sickness and nausea fill my entire body, like water in a cup, until it brims to the edge. I hold onto my stomach as vomit pours from my mouth, an acidic reflex smashing against the back of my throat. A small, broken whimper comes from my throat, and with shaky legs, I fall to my knees and allow myself to cry once more.

I could go home, but to _what_?

Parents who acknowledge my existence, use it to their advantage, but _truly_ don't care for me?

So many other tributes could have a better life that is more worthy of survival. Alto had siblings to return home to. Koel had a loving, carefree family that adored him. Even someone like the Careers have someone they care about that is sat back in their district, watching carefully, praying they come home in one piece and not a coffin. I don't really have anyone; and the sad thing is, I still want to live. I don't want to die. Nobody truly does want their heart to stop beating.

I just... I don't know how much I can handle on my own. If Five died, then it's me versus two older, stronger, trained tributes. What chances would I have?

I stagger back from the chaos in front of me. Without thinking, my tiny, careful steps turn into a rapid, loud run. I run and run, down another flight of stairs and then a broken escalator. The cold from the arena makes my breath foggy and continues to send a wave of pain through my body as it whips against my open wound. Finally, I cave, falling against the floor and allowing emotions to take over yet another time. This time, I don't cry. This time, I scream. A loud, pained, broken, child-like scream for all the children that lossed their lives before they truly began.

The Hunger Games change people.

They changed _me_.

They allowed me to understand that emotions are not something that can easily be bottled up, no matter how many times your parents drill that into your skull. That crying doesn't make you weak. That trusting two boys could be the difference between an early death and lasting longer. That allowing those two boys into your heart can make you feel a better person. I force myself up and look over the barrier, one floor from the plaza. The ground is smeared with blood in different places, the golden horn still shimmering under the moonlight.

Soon, three more will be dead. Soon, it commences; the finale.

I move over towards the last set of steps, my foot touching the first step to my eventual fate.

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

The orange backpacks sit around me, camouflaging me well, I guess. Since Chord's death, I've managed to stay well-hidden. Lorelei, alongside the girl from Seven and the boy from Nine, were the first to die, followed by the boy from Eleven. The anthem blares one more time to confirm the final death before the big match.

The boy from Six is high up in the sky, blonde hair blazing and pale face striking. Then, he disappears.

Garnet is still alive. So is the little girl from Three, Addilyn, Gage called her, and then the girl from Five.

Garnet will want me dead foremost. The girl from Five will want Garnet's blood for killing her district partner, whilst Addilyn is probably hoping to just survive the mess about to ensue. Me? I want Garnet dead, much like Five. He killed her district partner and then, he killed Chord, the only person who I actually learned to care about in a brutal place like this, not counting Delaney. I wait patiently for someone, anyone, to come along. I won't kill Addilyn and I'm not even bothered about killing Five. My main and only goal is to make sure that Garnet suffers.

I close my eyes and instantly, I'm reminded of Garnet, sword in hand, lowering it down swiftly into Chord's back. My hand idly traces over the deep but tender scar on my forehead; the scar that Garnet gave me, throwing me head first into the electrical barrier. I wince at the touch and grit my teeth.

He _killed_ Chord.

The boy who, somehow, managed to capture my heart without knowing. Pardon the cliche.

There's a certain stigma when it comes to gay people - they assume we are all weak, thin, flimsy and easily broken. Combine that with the stereotype of a Career from District Two, and that's a _lot_ of stereotypes I've managed to break. I'm not an average, bloodthirsty Career. I'm not a weak, easily broken gay person. I'm me. Theo Cassius. My one and only kill through the entire Games was the boy from Seven, and that was to only protect Lorelei from being his victim.

Only more name will be on that list by the time I'm announced as winner.

And, even if I'm not announced as winner and I die, I'm not bothered. As long as Garnet is dead before me, then I'm okay with that.

The sound of gears churning begins to fill the silence, and slowly, the floor in front of the Cornucopia begins to part open. The table, topped by five bags, ascends. The largest pack belongs to the boy from Six, ironically, even though he's already dead. The smallest pack is District One, for Garnet, because clearly the big bad monster hasn't faced any _real_ problems. My own pack probably only contains food. Addilyn's and Five's match almost identical, and each one is coloured and marked. Slowly, I creep out from behind the backpacks full of rock, and slowly tug my bag off the table.

That's when I see Addilyn, small and tired, run across the plaza and snatch her bag. Her eyes meet mine, about the same level because I'm on my knees, and she gasps.

I don't know why she's scared... And that's when I see the tip of silver snaking outwards from her stomach. Tears fill her eyes and blood pools from both her shoulder and her stomach. Her eyes go white, the sword is yanked out, and Addilyn's tiny body falls to the sound of her cannon.

Behind her crumpled body, Garnet stands triumphant, a large cut in his shoulder and his sword sprayed with blood.

"Long time no see, my _friend_." Garnet whispers huskily.

I leap out of the Cornucopia as Garnet jumps backwards. He's injured whereas I'm not. That gives me the advantage. But as we stare each other down, bloodlust in his eyes and anger no doubt in mine, the ground beneath us begins to shake. My eyes instantly dart upwards towards the glass roof, and just finely, you can see the moon disappearing and the sun taking place. That's when you can see the glass of the roof begin to crack slowly. Lines upon lines switch out in every direction, the sound of glass cracking filling the air combined with my own heartbeat thudding loudly.

A huge chunk of glass begins to fall in slow motion and that's when it happens.

The glass roof collapses with an ear-splitting bang, sunlight streaming through and taking away the coldness lingering around.

The finale has arrived, and one way or another, Garnet _will_ be dead.

Whether I survive or not.

* * *

**I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Gavan Dior, District Six.**

**Addilyn Helix, District Three.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Cameron, Garnet and Theo; who do you want to win but who do you think will win?_**

**_And on that note, who do you think deserves to win?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.**

**Lighty, I loved Gavan so so much. He was, hands down, the most creative and bizarre tribute I have ever seen and I loved him.**

**Olive, well, I loved Addilyn to the moon and back! My favourite Three tribute ever!**

**You both done amazing on your characters and I loved them. And you. Because you two are awesome. ;)**

* * *

**Final battle next everybody. I'm excited. Are you excited?!**

**After the final battle is posted and we have our winner, there will be one more chapter concerning the interview with Caesar and the Victor. Once that has been posted, obituaries will be posted on the blog. Hopefully you'll all stick around to hear about our beloved Victor and what happened to the fallen!**

**I know I said I wouldn't be able to update... But I couldn't resist when I had this idea in my head and I had to write it out before I forgot! I have no idea when the final battle or BTTW will be updated, though, so still bare with me!**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**


	18. Don't You Worry Child

**Don't You Worry Child.**

_Don't you worry child; see heaven's got a plan for you._

* * *

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

* * *

Garnet's eyes, not surprisingly, never waver despite the destruction about to happen. My eyes stay locked on the falling shards of glass - rather huge - hurtling down towards us. Garnet makes a small, cheerful laugh as he jumps backwards, sword still in hand as the first piece of glass lands and shatters just where he was stood. I wince at the destruction before trying to lock my eyes back on Garnet.

All this time, I've been one of the biggest threats concerning the Careers.

Garnet, however, seemed to sneak up on everyone.

Delaney was always right about Garnet being the biggest challenge I'll have to face; I just always hoped someone else, maybe Astor, might have killed him before I would have to face that. Delaney was always our weakest link, Astor was okay but never trained like the rest of us and Lorelei was always mysterious. I shouldn't even count Waverly or Gage in our alliance; neither lasted long and neither had the right connection and attitude. It's sad, really, because someone like Waverly could have avoided everything and would still be alive now.

"What are you waiting for, Theo? Big bad Theo, leader of the dysfunctional Careers!" Garnet cackles.

Another chunk of glass shatters nearby, followed by a smaller piece that breaks on top of the Cornucopia, shards raining down the sides.

"I was never waiting." I reply back, just as strong.

"Hmm. More like you never expected it to be just you and _me_."

"And the girl from Five," I reiterate. "Don't forget about her."

"She's as good as dead," Garnet cracks a dark smile. "I made sure to take her out so I could enjoy this without the worry of an added '_extra_'".

He says 'extra' with his spare hand making quotation marks. Garnet had this all planned out - he wanted to win by defeating a Career in the final fight. He didn't want to defeat a reaped tribute, an extra in his eyes, because that wouldn't bring enough satisfaction. He wanted to win by killing a Career and from the beginning, he targeted me. That's why he acted uncharacteristically kind towards me. He was lulling me into a sense of false security - to never have to worry about him as a threat - so that I wouldn't be as prepared as I could have been. If I had found out sooner, Garnet wouldn't be around now. Someone else would be here and my chances would have been a bit higher.

He really did manage to play the game on both sides; physical and psychological.

"You make a perfect mass murderer." I say, tilting my morningstar into a more attack position.

Another glass shatters on the moss-covered fountain a few yards away.

"What can I say?" Garnet laughs. "I was always here, there, killing and fighting whilst the rest of you hid. I played it properly!"

That he did. I should have seen it coming all along.

"So how many kills has that been, Garnet?" I shout backwards over the next chunk of glass shattering.

"Hmm," Garnet smirks. "Twelve, Five, Astor, Eight, Six, little Three here, might as well add the other half of Five to it and lets not forget about poor, little Chord. So, I've killed eight. Adding you to it means a kill streak of nine. Impressive, right?"

I nod without really agreeing. Anything to stall him; and I'd be lying if I didn't hope a chunk of glass would just squish him.

"Giving up already Theo? I didn't think _you'd_ be like that. Obviously missing your boyfriend too much."

The thought of Chord ignites the dormant fire within me. I've held it back whilst Garnet has chatted away, but now, it's too late. Garnet's eyes never waver and as my eyes trace the length and size of his sword and the stained blood, I charge forward. Garnet isn't caught off-guard and easily dodges my first swing with a dark cackle.

"Come on buddy," Garnet urges me on, taking a swing with his sword that I side-step. "You can fight better than this!"

"You better I can!" I shout, putting a lot of strength into my next swing that just skims past Garnet's shoulder.

We skirmish for a while, dealing out blows that never hit, skipping around the blood-stained tiles as glass continues to rain down. I quickly look up, for a split second, to see no more glass, and a part of me sinks when I realise that I'll have to kill Garnet completely on my own. Right now, I can't help but doubt my odds.

"You know-" Garnet grunts as he avoids my next swing. "I never knew you were gay."

"It's not something-" I duck the next blow. "I've gone around bragging about."

"Ashamed are we?"

"Never-" I slip from the blood and glass, but manage to swing again. "I just try to avoid being stereotyped."

"Like you guys-" Garnet jabs his sword forward. "Thinking that I was dumb?"

My lips press into a line, the words dying on my tongue. He was right. We did stereotype him into being dumb. Astor made it clear from the beginning that Garnet wasn't the brightest lightbulb; that he was all brawn and no brains. That might have been true, but, I've learned the hard way that whilst mathematics isn't something Garnet can do, holding up a front and playing a game most certainly is. His sword jerks out, and I'm a little slow, the blade cutting across my side and ripping the white shirt open. Blood quickly leaks out and smothers it red. Taking advantage of the situation, Garnet boots his foot outwards, catching me in the knee and sending me downwards. Red liquid begins to trickle on the ground around my skin, a sharp, peppered pain shooting up my leg.

"How the mighty have fallen," Garnet smirks, booting out again and, despite dodging, it hits my shoulder and forces me onto my back. "And, now, I'll claim my victory."

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

I blink a few times at the image in front of me. Their hand is extended outwards, looking rather sinister. I'm almost tempted to grab onto it - a sense of happiness settling inside me at the thought of taking that hand and seeing where it might lead me. It couldn't hurt, could it?

"Cameron!"

My entire body freezes as I remember the voice. It's sweet, angelic, child-like and whimsical. I turn around from the hand protruding from the shadows and see the image, a blur of bright red, to my left. The sound and the bright red hair is enough to bring tears brimming at my eyes. It begins to materialise into something proper, and as she comes around, I want to hug her. Mirana stands there, her face so innocent despite the large, deep gash in her stomach; the gash that I done.

"Mirana..."

"Cameron!" Mirana squeals. "You have to go back, okay?"

"Go back..." I repeat the words, realising what they might mean to me. Go back to a world where I could die at the click of someone's fingers?

"Yes, go back, silly," Mirana gushes. "They wouldn't be happy if you didn't."

"If wh-"

A blonde blur appears on Mirana's right, quickly forming into Gavan. My breath hitches in my throat as I place the pieces together and realise that if Gavan and Mirana are together, Gavan is dead. The tears that were so close to spilling, do, and I allow myself to silently cry and smile at Gavan's bright hair and red soaked shirt.

"She's right, you know," Gavan says softly but defiant. "You have to go back and show them you can do it."

"What he said," Mirana beams, looking at Gavan. "Your hair is _so_ much like snow still!"

"Yeah, well," Gavan plucks his top from being so tight against his skin. "This is the colour of your _hair_."

Mirana frowns before giggling and then looking back at me. The whole thing manages to send warmth into my heart, lighting it like a fire. "But go back. For us?"

I keep my mouth closed, afraid of how much it might betray me and give away my true emotions. Truth is, I'm so against going back. Mirana and Gavan and Jack made the arena for me so less terrifying than it could have been. I was so scared, scared out of my mind, but I kept my hardened and witty shell on, acting like the mother to my allies. Why would I want to go back and be murdered when I could so easily give in and join them all? Go back to my 'family' by taking that darkened hand?

"Don't even think about it."

A smirk forms on my lips at the presence of another voice in the air. This one I know so well. This one was the same I coaxed into joining this alliance and gaining that father figure he never expected to gain. I spin around on the spot, finding Jack's peaceful face and head full of curls, contrasting to the red pattern melded into his white top.

"I wasn't." I lie.

"Yes you were, I know you too well, Cam," Jack smirks himself, and how much I actually miss seeing his budding sarcasm, learned from yours truly. "You go back and actually fight for what _you_ deserve."

"My life?"

Jack smirks again. "Exactly."

He must see the confliction on my face because he steps forward. Without warning, both of his hands touch my shoulder, but I don't feel it, I just see it. His smirk turns soft and he leans forward, whispering three simple words that change everything. Fight for me.

Then, without warning, light pierces my eyes and I strain to see my three former allies turning into blurs once more.

It takes a while to open my eyes and that's when my head begins to pound. I gingerly touch the back of my head and find it sticky and wet. When I retract my fingers, they've been dipped red. The pain is overwhelming. I try to stand up but it turns out to be harder than I thought, my legs almost like gelatin that can barely stand. I blow air through my teeth and force myself up, ignoring the pain and the way my head swims. The floor where I laid a few seconds ago is painted red and black, and you can't not see the large pool of crimson to my left. That's where Gavan died alone. I left him alone. It takes but a moment to realise that the sunlight on my face is warm, not like the fake one. I look up and see the glass roof has crashed through; I don't know whether that's a blessing or something more sadistic.

I see the sight of something across the gap drifting lightly into the hole in the wall. Past the fuzziness, I strain my eyes, and that's when the explosion happens.

It's loud and leaves a ringing in my ears. A new sense of panic settles deep in my stomach as the explosion sets off a domino effect, taking the shop out to it's right and then onwards. My feet move before my head has processed that it will eventually catch me unless I descend three floors into the battle with my final three opponents.

I storm down the broken escalator near me as the floor seems to concave completely. Then, the drifting object floats down in front of me, a cylinder shape, passing the cement of a shop in the direction I'm running. It explodes as I come to a halt, blowing me off my feet. The pain in my head only thuds mindlessly as I rush to my feet, slipping and sliding, running away as the explosions begin to erupt behind me, one after one, chasing.

The one thing I'm proud of is my speed. I've always had exceptional speed. I sprint down the steps, two at a time, the floor giving out in an eerie fashion.

This time, though, I'm down the first set of steps I can reach, and as I touch the bottom, my stomach knots tight at the sight of the little girl from Three. One and Two clash their weapons, bleeding and injured, when the final explosion booms, a deafening rumble erupting. It shocks them both enough to look in my direction.

One has the advantage, and quickly, he snatches it.

His sword skewers Two through the gut. The look of anger on Two's face fades away as his body crumples, life disappearing and a cannon sounding in response.

* * *

**Garnet Stone, District One Male.**

* * *

Seeing Theo's dead body on the floor fills me with both a sense of pleasure and a sense of anger. He was suppose to be my final kill; the cherry on top to my victory. I had this planned without anyone knowing. Everyone else was suppose to die so I could claim victory and seal history with a fight of the ages. Two Careers, a massive bloodshed battle, me coming out on top. Theo was my choice; my first and only choice.

Delaney and Waverly was weak. Astor, well, I wanted to use her to help me kill and then kill her before the battle. It came down to Theo and Lorelei. But when I saw Theo take charge during training, and then that deadly score of ten came up to match mine, I knew he was the one. Naturally, he'd last long, but only one person would be able to conquer the giant and that would be me.

I never planned on Five surviving though.

She never was suppose to. When I threw her head against the floor, I expected both her and her ally from Six to just die, bleed out perhaps. He done as he was told. She, however, is a lot stronger.

But then again, killing the underdog? That might be just as good as killing the biggest threat and expectation as Victor.

Five stands there, wobbling back and forth on her feet, her face slightly pale and her eyes blinking rapidly. She could die any second. Growling, I grip my sword and charge at her. She doesn't seem to take my charge into proper account, but at the last minute, she throws herself to the side, falling onto the glass scattered at out feet. I spin around and stab outwards, hitting the ground as she rolls over, hands tucked in front of her face.

"Oh please." I mumble quietly, stepping forward to stab again, missing once more as Five rolls away.

I resort to kicking out my foot which catches her rib, and she wails in response, jumping up on her legs that sway slowly. I jerk my fist outwards and it grazes her chin, sending her shaken body staggering to the side. But as I go to punch her again, she fights back, ducking and managing to hit me on my jaw. Then, almost like a drug, she blinks again and seems completely okay. It's all an act and her eyes give it away, but she growls like before, that fighter's growl, and runs forward. I go to swipe my sword at her but she ducks, headbutting upwards into my groin. The pain, obviously, sends me reeling and onto my knees, dropping my sword. She kicks out into my chest, forcing me onto my back. It's surprising how much stronger someone gets when they have determination and a reason behind their actions.

She instantly kicks my side, sending another gush of pain through my body, before another kick lands between my legs once more.

This time, it's enough to make me sick. Spit and vomit spew in my mouth and out like a geyser. I hear the familiar sound of my sword scraping against the concrete, and as I clench my right hand, I realise I must have dropped it and Five's picked it up. The motivation sends me onto my feet in seconds.

Five stands there, holding the deadly weapon that I so love, eyeing me up.

"That was the same look in my eye when I killed your allies." I spit out angrily.

She screams, a mix of a broken sob and an infuriated cry, and runs forward with my large weapon in her fragile hands.

She sweeps outwards, but I know my weapon and how to use it, and instantly duck and grab the handle myself. She seems shocked and I tug for her to let it go. She tugs back, her mouth moves, and then a wad of spit flies into my face. My face flushes with anger and my stomach burns. I force my whole strength into a push, ripping the sword from Five's hand and watching her body sprawl to the glass-covered floor. Her eyes look so innocent as I launch forward, back with my sword, and land on her body, causing a sickening crunch to be heard from Five

I push down all my weight, holding her there.

"You're a fighter, you know," I whisper, my breath ghosting her ear. "I've always liked that in a girl. Someone who will tell me _no_."

"No." Five replies defiantly, but her voice is cracking.

"Just like that," I smirk, the cold silver running across her leg and then shorts, coming up to her top. "I'll make sure to get my wish. Everyone will remember my win and how I teased my opponent, torturing her until she basically killed herself because she couldn't handle the torment. You'll go down in history babe."

I lean up, my knees on either side of her, her right arm trapped between my leg and her body, her left a sickening yellow-green, a bone visible through the flesh as it lays idly to the side, useless. Oh dear, I broke her arm. I raise the sword until it presses against her neck. Slowly, I trace it down, watching the red line appear and Five crying in pain.

"Or I'll do it quick. Yeah, I feel like it's time _I_ went back and gained the adoration _I_ deserve!"

I raise the sword from her neck until it points over her heart.

"Say goodbye and oh, say hi to your little allies for me."

As I push down the tip of the sword through her flesh, a sharp, bullet pain enters my own, knocking my movement. The sword goes straight through her, missing her heart. She cries out in tune with me and as I look down, I can see a chunk of glass, dipped red, gripped in her apparent broken arm and a large hole squirting blood coming from my chest. Blackness swarms my vision as I fall on top of her. Our eyes are at level and as my own go dark, I see her orbs disappear behind her eyelids.

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games, -_

* * *

**Don't You Worry Child by Swedish House Mafia.**

* * *

**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Theo Cassius, District Two Male.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would _love_ for you to answer.**

**_Who is your winner, Garnet Stone from District One or Cameron Flinch from District Five?_**

**All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.**

**Half-Glass, I did love Theo to the moon and back and your reasons for his victory were admirable and correct. But, I wouldn't have known where to go for him after and I feel like his time to go would be now.**

* * *

**OHMYGOD WHO WON?**

**Find out next chapter, heh. I'm evil I know. It's either Cameron or Garnet. Next chapter, interview and the announcement of our Victor!**

**I'll ask my big questions next chapter too and then it'll be over. ;o**


	19. Wherever You Will Go

**Wherever You Will Go.**

_If a great wave shall fall, and fall upon us all, then between the sand and stone; could you make it on your own?_

* * *

_"- Cameron Flinch! I give you - the tribute of District Five!"_

* * *

**Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.**

* * *

One's heavy body lays on mine, the brushing sound of his cannon and the static in the air. I struggle underneath his weight and the glass shard gripped in my hand falls lamely, hitting the floor. I won. I beat twenty-three other tributes. It almost seems like a dream; am I awake? Am I alive? The pain in my arm is throbbing and tears pepper my vision. His face looks so peaceful compared to the angry, rabid look on his face when he was toying with me, ready to spear my heart with the tip of his sword.

With my good, non-broken arm, I force him off me, body spraying on the ground and spreading the glass. I let out deep, heavy breaths, letting emotions consume me. Tears now stream my face, mixing with blood, splashing against the floor that's almost smeared in the same stuff. It's been a nightmare; a walking, talking, living and killing nightmare. I watched children die and I killed myself. I fought for my life and allowed others to lose theirs.

I should feel good, shouldn't I?

But as I struggle to my feet, I realise that whilst I'm elated, I can't help but feel the dread. Two's dead body is nearby and not to mention the little girl from Three. She looks even tinier in death, small and frail, a mixture of a child and an elderly lady. I never even knew her name. That's what sickens me to my stomach. I feel sorry she's dead, but I don't know her life, her age, her name - how can I mourn someone whose unknown to me? I'll learn it. I'll learn them all.

The light on the floor darkens as the hovercraft covers the light. The sound fills the air and the electrical ladder drops near the Cornucopia. I walk over, cradling my broken arm. My eyes linger on the three dead bodies around me; when will they be collected? When will they make it home? I don't know. I grip onto the ladder with my only arm and instantly, I'm stuck to it. I ascend upwards, passing the shops that once contained items, followed by meteors, and then, blown up. Blood is smeared on every floor; I instantly know the puddle that belongs to Gavan, to Mirana, to the spiders and the soot and everything makes my head spin before I'm in the hovercraft, white coats and clean hands pressing out my body. I want to scream - scream for the children that died, for the deaths I watched, the pain I endured and the nightmares that will forever be linked to my brain.

Someone comes over and hands me a glass of water.

I grip it with a shaky hand; the perfect, clear liquid smeared by my blackened and bloodied hands.

"You'll be okay, just dehydrated and injured a little," the woman says, a purple-lipped smile on her face. "Drink up and relax."

She wets a piece of skin with some tissue and brings forth a needle from her coat pocket. She squeezes the liquid - a crystalline green - before she injects it into me. It's a calm relief and makes everything go fuzzy. I see her lips but everything else goes blurry. I hear beeping, some chattering, before Jack's words echo in my mind as everything goes dark.

_Fight for me._

I did Jack, I did.

* * *

My nerves are beyond sky-high as I stand on the edge of the stage, waiting for my turn to be called. I'm shaking still and I'll forever be despite leaving the arena two days ago. Two days and it still feels like yesterday. I only came out of being "fixed-up" like a toy two days ago. Then, straightaway, I had to re-adjust to reality and the fact that I'll be living like this without a doubt. The thought almost sickens me. I graze my hand over my once broken arm. They fixed that, all the cuts and bruises, washed away the blood of my own and Garnet's and Gavan's and every other child that's livelihood is smeared on the floor. Cable and Cordelia came and saw me, told me about everything, told me the bodies and coffins would be returned. I cried for my allies once more. Jack's coffin is waiting on the train for me; it's customary for the Victor to accompany their fallen district partner home. They told me the names of all the fallen after I asked. I needed to know. I couldn't be a survivor that never knew the names of the people that didn't make it. In my mind, it seemed appropriate. Easier to mourn that way. Mourn the children that lost their lives in order for me to keep mine. It sounds poetic; people wouldn't understand the way it twists and darkens your mind.

Now, a new kind of torture; my Victor's interview.

Caesar was kind the first time, making me appealing when I thought it impossible, and he'll probably congratulate me and take my easily through the horrors I witnessed and the ones I didn't; the beauty of being a Victor is that you get to witness all twenty-three deaths whether you were involved or not.

Feels more like a punishment, a way to produce nightmares in us all.

"Hey, don't panic," Cable whispers from behind. "You'll be fine Cameron. It's a simple trick; Caesar will show the entire Games in clips. Reapings of the stand-out tributes, chariots, scores, interviews and then the deaths. Your final battle against Garnet will be the cherry on top. After this, you'll go back to District Five and wait for the Victor's Tour."

I gulp and nod. "I'm scared."

"You weren't last time."

"Last time I had Jack." I respond quietly, the thought sending a deep whistle in my heart. And Gavan. And Mirana. I had an alliance, now, I'm just me.

The darkness on the stage is lit up by a single light, Caesar Flickerman coming up onto the stage. He smiles that predatory smile of his and introduces himself and some words of excitement over the events. The crowd stays quiet until my name, Cameron Flinch, is mentioned and then they roar. Cable smiles and from behind him, Cordelia looks sick. She couldn't bring Jack home, but Cable succeeded in bringing me home. That counts for something, surely?

"So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, lets bring on our guest, Victor of the Sixty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games, all the way from District Five, Cameron Flinch!"

A man kindly ushers me onto the stage. I step up, holding my signature blood orange dress on one side so I can climb steps. Even now, I still hate the dress. A whole district dedicated to textiles and they can't make nice feeling clothes. When Caesar sees my struggle, he laughs, holding out his hand for me to take, allowing him to guide me to my seat. I clip my heel on something, though, and I flounder into my seat. The crowd erupts in cheers and laughs, the heat creeping up on my face.

"Welcome Cameron, it's been a while," Caesar starts off, smiling to me as the single light draws inwards, darkening the crowd and leaving only me and him illuminated. The shadows make his eyes and bright white teeth even brighter. "How are you feeling, first of all?"

"Coping," I reply back, forcing kindness into the word. I don't blame Caesar, but I can't be okay after two days from my near death. If I was okay, it'd only make me seem heartless or bloodthirsty. "Getting reintroduced to reality can be tiring."

"I completely understand," Caesar sounds sympathetic. "Being encased for so long would suppress reality for anyone. Am I right everybody?"

The ominous crowd hums in agreement.

"Before we begin with the tons of questions I have lined up for you, all we are dying to know about, we have to show the recaps for those who live under rocks!" Caesar grins again.

I hold my breath as darkness descends once more, Caesar's bright features bending into the shadows, too. I feel alone. I can't see anyone and that's when a single, blinding white blurs on the screen behind me. Simple white and I turn to face it. It'll be expected of me to be watching when the lights come back on. Maybe the audience can even see me. I swish in my chair and hold my hands tightly in my lap.

"Twenty-four tributes went in and only one came out."

I hold my breath as the scene changes from white to a cluster of colours that prove to be District Six. I can only tell that by the blinding white hair of the boy on stage. Gavan. I miss him; miss him more than a Victor should for a fallen tribute not from their district. We're expected to pity our fallen district partners, not those from other districts. A blood red 5 comes under his screen. His final placement. The scene shifts to the dreary, smog-covered District Three, and similar features and hair, little Addilyn Helix holds steady on stage. 4. A change again and the rough and tough look on District Two, many of the children, deadly looking, wearing leather jackets to match. Theo Cassius is on stage, stony-faced alongside his cocky, beautiful district partner. 3. Glamour and beauty is expected at District One, and when you look at the children, you can see why. Garnet Stone charges for the stage alongside others, he wins and then, stands there proudly with a bright smile laced with the true evil he hid underneath.

The scene changes and my breath hitches in my throat. District Five, the same crowd every year, the same escort and the same feelings I had every year in those pens. Mine's a bit longer, and they make sure to show Jack getting reaped, so quietly and calm as he descends the stage. My name is hollered and I freeze on the spot. I can see the way my muscles tighten, my jaw clenching and the look in my eyes. I hold strong and stride to the stage, and that's when my facade begins. The quirky Cameron comes back, arms unreleased and my eyes neutral. For that small moment, I was okay, because I knew I could do it. I knew I could.

I did do it.

The scene flips again and the chariot rides begin. Each district gets a few short seconds of clip as they run down the line, perfectly quiet audience. I quickly look out into the darkness where the audience was and find myself smiling wickedly. You enjoy this, don't you? Enjoy us being paraded and murdered? You wait. You wait until it comes back against you. Karma can be a bit of a bitch.

Me and Jack in our matching suits and matching expressions get a little longer, all the way to the end before it flips again, this time, onto our interviews. Each tribute gets a few seconds and a line that defined them. For example, Garnet's is a play on how underestimated he feels, that cocky dark smirk staying strong laced with his plan and act, Addilyn is about her hidden intelligence, Mirana shows her pocketwatch and grins whilst Gavan stares out absently and terrified. I get longer once more, and I feel my heart burn at the thought that I get showered, whilst the deceased are simply worth a few seconds each. Granted, someone like Garnet doesn't deserve it, but poor little Addilyn, Gavan and Mirana, Tauria from Seven or even Ashton and Anastasia from Twelve. They deserve more than this.

My words are simple, like Garnet's; don't underestimate me or count me out yet.

I scratch my palms as the screen goes dark once more. I hold my breath and blow it through my teeth. I keep running my hands through my dress just to remind me that yes, yes, this is all real and not a dream. You survived, Cameron, barely but you survived.

"They fought to the death, for their lives. Only one could win and the fame and fortune of being a Victor was put on the line."

I want to scoff at that remark. Yes, we all care about fame and fortune. Maybe the Careers but not us reaped. We wanted our lives back.

Ominous dark music begins to twinkle in the background as the black screen becomes colourful again, the plaza and golden horn on show. Orange backpacks spill from inside and our plates are empty. In time, all twenty-four of us rise, expressions astonished and confused, scared and calm, calculating and hidden. Everyone felt differently; their faces give it away. The gong sounds and everything goes. All the deaths will be played one after the other, and then, the days will be ticked off until twenty-three hearts have stopped beating. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and count the names. I learned them all like I promised. This is my time for mourning.

The first one dead is Sami from Ten. Her skull is crushed so horribly by Delaney from Two.

Yes, the rocks in the backpacks are exposed, like I thought.

Waverly from Four, the supposed Career, is dragged into the horn by Gage from Three and his throat is slit. Ashton from Twelve is dragged by his hair towards the concrete steps by Garnet, where he repeatedly slams it down until his skull is exposed. Everything has begun to run after finding the trickery. They show me running away from Astor from One, she catches me and gets me to the floor. Mirana comes running and saves me, barely - I could have been dead there and then but was saved by a girl I killed myself. It sickens me again.

I hold back my tears as Anastasia from Twelve is pinned by Delaney from Two. Anastasia's ally, Karli from Six, comes to her rescue only for her neck to be snapped by Lorelei from Four.

They leave and Anastasia runs, unharmed. Every begins to hide in the shops. Timber from Seven finds them and tries to kill Lorelei. Theo manages to kill him and the bloodbath is over.

A black screen is followed by Day Two, once again in blood red.

This was the worse day and I instantly know why. Fern from Nine finds an ally in Stitch from Eight at the last minute. Later, he stabs her with a sword and crushes her skull underneath his boot. Minutes later, Lorelei from Four turns against her former allies. She quietly slices Gage from Three's throat open and abandons her team. Blood smothers the floor, onto the sleeping body of Garnet nearby, and a choked breath breaks my silence.

They show the four of us; me, Jack, Gavan and Mirana playing in the snow that formed on the plaza. The Careers peer over the side and silently study us. They run downwards, hollering and shouting, and we never know. We're too late to run and have to fight. I save Mirana and take some blows from Delaney. Jack and Gavan join together to fight Garnet. I get Mirana away and Gavan sprints for safety. Jack trips on a mound of snow and falls. His back is quickly speared and I look away - letting tears silently trail my face - as his blood paints the snow from white to crimson.

Black once more as Day Three comes up.

Acid sprays the back of my throat and makes me want to be sick when the screen comes up to show Anastasia from Twelve finally being captured by Delaney. She teases her and stabs her through the eye, taking her life, just before an arrow springs into her shoulder. I sit up a little, shocked at the sight of little Alto from Eleven, arrow locked on her once more. It flies into her throat and blood squirts. Theo holds her until she dies as Garnet and Astor chase Alto.

It shows Tauria and Zaira from Eleven, and sadly, I almost forgot about Zaira. She was always quiet and hidden. Tauria targets Lorelei to try and kill her. They fight, Zaira watches, and then Lorelei kicks Tauria away, letting her spear sink into Zaira's innocent form. She holds Zaira's head in her lap as she dies. Another Career with kindness?

Three deaths one after the other. It focuses onto the roof as the sleak spiders descend to cause terror. The screen jumps to the little alliance, Alto and Addilyn, alongside Koel from Nine, as they wait and watch. They pick a spider and Koel becomes the distraction. Alto and Addilyn combine their talents - archery and electricity - to connect the electrical barrier to an arrow and launch it at the spider. It could have gone wrong. It went right; the spider dies instantly. Little kids turning into killers to survive... the thought makes me want to be sick once more. I scratch my palm again. I'm alive. I'm alive.

Another spider attacks Stitch from Eight but he kills. Two target the remaining Careers and they kill them pretty easily. One, however, finds us. It smashes through the window and chaos ensues. Me and Gavan try to reach Mirana, and we do, but our running slows down as it snares us. We fall and it stabs Mirana through the leg. She cries and giggles, mentally unstable, and I throw Jack's hatchet into it's eyes, silencing it. I can't watch this. I can't do this; and yet, my eyes stay glued to the screen in horror. I take no cautions and bring the black hatchet down onto Mirana's chest. Her giggle dies in mid-air, and once more, tears slide down. No-one can see me, it's okay.

Day Four isn't much. the Careers break now that three are left. Theo goes one way and finds himself a new ally in Chord from Ten, so humble and polite. Astor stays around the area, not daring to leave, and Garnet silently stalks Astor when she begins to move away. He waits for the right moment before confronting her. They talk, they fight. Garnet overpowers her and throws her much smaller body into the electrical barrier. Her body sizzles and her eyes roll in her head. I almost gag when I see Garnet decapitate her and kick her head away like she was nothing. He was a monster. A calculating, evil monster who had it planned all along. The day ends with Garnet finding Stitch on his own.

Day Five starts at night, when Garnet attacks Stitch, who for some reason, seems like he's given up. It doesn't take long for Garnet to decapitate him just as easily as Astor, and angrily, Garnet throws Stitch's decapitated body into the glass window, blood smearing it as he slides downwards. Just like that, Garnet took another look. Once again, I'm sickened. I shift my position and see a brief glimpse of Caesar's bright white teeth, facing my direction. It changes to me and Gavan, bloodied and emotionally broken, leaning on each other. The sight is both endearing and haunting. Two kids, two different districts, friends despite the stigma of one only surviving. Garnet finds Theo and Chord eventually. He attacks them and quickly, a large brawl escalates. Garnet disposes quickly of Theo by throwing him head first into the barrier, stunning him to the floor. Chord is injured and it's not hard for Garnet to kill a weakened, unprotected Chord, leaving Theo alone. What really shocks me, though, is the way Theo kisses Chord so passionately and clean. The ominous audience agrees and hums and awws. Theo, a Career, was gay. It's almost angelic and I smile at the thought of them two. Theo was never a bad guy.

Meteors rain down, one at the little kids on top, and Koel from Nine falls unconscious when it's clear a piece of smoldering rock crashes a piece of glass that darts straight into his head. It's complicated; I wouldn't be surprised if Gamemakers planned that because they've been so quiet. Lorelei finds Tauria, hidden in the Cornucopia, and they fight too. Lorelei defends herself and Tauria seeks revenge for Zaira's death. Lorelei wins and Tauria is silenced by a spear lodged into her neck. I clench my hands and wait to see me and Gavan, still together, but I don't.

The screen goes black. Day Six.

Meteors continue to rain and destroy nearly all the shops, burning and destroying all the items and weapons. Everyone is left with whatever they cleverly captured at the beginning. A stray piece of flamed rock, whipped by green smoke, targets Lorelei and burns her leg. She screams and she changes, becoming an animal, stalking the hallways with wild, feral eyes, growling and stamping her foot. It's obvious she's been poisoned. She finds the littles and attacks, trying to target little Koel. Alto is forced down the concrete steps and is head is whipped against the ground, drawing blood. Addilyn tries to protect her unconscious ally, and eventually, her and Alto try their spider trick on a real human; an arrow is speared through Lorelei. Addilyn attacks wires to it and the barrier, electrifying Lorelei until her body blackens and crumples. Her cannon sounds and another straight after. Koel from Nine dies in his unconscious sleep, so peacefully and calm, away from the terror. I'm happy for that. He seemed innocent and young; an easy, painless death. By now, I feel sick, sweating, ready to be sick and escape these horrors.

A black screen. Day Seven.

Nothing happens. Everyone is either injured or tired or mourning. It shows Alto and Addilyn tearing up as Koel's body is collected, sickened when Lorelei's is. It skips to Garnet, and then Theo a level under, walking the same path. Garnet goes up. Theo down. So close and far away. Then, me and Gavan come up, sitting still in a new shop. Gavan looks dazed and I look wild. This must have been after we outran the meteors. My fingers ache when I release them from the grip I had, and slowly, I sink lower into my seat.

Day Eight. I'm ready to scream.

Addilyn, smart as she is, realises that Alto is burned and puts two and two together after witnessing Lorelei's acidic burns and her crazed, un-human state. Almost after, the poison takes affect, and Alto tries to kill Addilyn, claiming she's a monster. Addilyn has no other choice but to electrocute him. She apologizes and then cries. She took her ally's life in order to save her own. Maybe, just maybe, me and Addilyn were alike despite the age. I done that. I took Mirana's life because she would only drag me and Gavan down. I was heartless just like little Addilyn had to be. Fire and sickness mix together; kids having to kill isn't right. It isn't. I shake my head involuntarily and breath through gritted teeth. I'll make them pay. I will.

A feast is announced to lull us into the final fight.

By now, Day Nine is where everything happens. I hold my breath when me and Gavan, stumbling in the dark, find Garnet. He stabs Gavan in his thigh and he falls. I breath hard. I blink constantly and rub my hands mindlessly on my dress. I fight Garnet and he slams my head down on the tiles, making a sickening crunch. I wince at the memory of the pain. He taunts Gavan and prepares to kill him before I react in a state of confusion. I manage to throw my hatchet at Garnet's shoulder and he flees, eyes wide like a wild animal. I fall unconscious. Gavan bleeds. Addilyn finds us and watches, scared and jittery. Gavan slips into death and I choke out a cry.

I can see Caesar lean forward, bright features staring concerned, but I wave him away, pretending I coughed. Addilyn runs downstairs to the plaza where Garnet is also going and Theo waits in the Cornucopia. She doesn't see Garnet sneak up behind her and his sword slices through her back and out her stomach. Like that, an innocent child is killed, despite Addilyn showing that she had Victor qualities; heartless at the right moments and caring in others. Theo jumps out and the staredown begins. A crack stops them and they look up, watching the arena crumble.

They skip the scene between Theo and Garnet fighting to my unconscious, dirty, black and red body laid in Gavan's blood and the ash.

I wake up after a while. My struggle is clear and the audience hums in adoration. I begin to walk, and then run, when the shops begin to break and blow up. They zoom in on the devices I saw, and it's proof they were little bombs. They were after me since they chase me like a predator to prey, and I'm happy at that. Good. They tried to kill and I won. See? They underestimated me.

I reach the bottom.

Theo is taken out, stabbed through the gut and he falls, his eyes slipping from angry to peaceful.

The final fight happens and the audience in the shadows become alert.

We fight. Garnet gains an upper hand. For a slight moment, I do too, but that's crashed when Garnet breaks my arm by landing on top of me. He pins me and they zoom onto my face. I look like a wounded animal, scarred and bleeding, my eyes begging for life. He taunts me and they show my weak hand grabbing a shard of glass. I mindlessly rub my arm again, the pain familiar and intense. It took a lot of will to grab that glass. His sword slips from my heart to my shoulder blade, my glass shard finds his stomach and rips him open. Blood covers me and we both fall unconscious.

The screen darkens and my victory is cemented in history.

I feel sick. I feel like I should scream and cry, fight for my life once more and fight for the dead. From District One to Twelve, all the children that have died.

Lights come back on and Caesar's cheerful, calm face finds mine, before dropping in concern. I touch my face and realise that I've been crying. Crying tons and tons, my dress damp and patched from the moisture. I should smile it away. I should try to be a good Victor. Instead, I stand up abruptly, the audience whispering in confusion. With anger and fire in my eyes, I spin around and flip my large chair, bathing in the sounds of a shocked audience. I smile as I fly down the stairs, dress coming loose and hair untamed. I storm off stage and Cable grabs my arm, pushing me into the elevator nearby.

"That wasn't the best of ideas, Cam." he says carefully, urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, well, I've never been one for rules," I growl, realising that sadness is gone and anger is here; anger will stay for as long as I live. "But ideas? I know exactly what to do. They think they own us? Well, lets see what they think about a rebellion."

Cable's eyes narrow but he doesn't look angry or fazed. Almost... accepting.

"You don't have to jo-"

"No," Cable cuts in. "I know exactly where to go for that. I know where this rebellion is starting, and we'll join. I mean we, Cameron. As your mentor, I'm required to help you in anyway possible, helping you to try and survive. I did that. You did that. That bond is sealed, though, so if you're in, I am too. I'm always right behind you."

I smile.

I'll fight for my life, Jack.

Fight for you. For Gavan. For Mirana. For little Addilyn and humble Chord. For evil Garnet and innocent Koel.

I'll fight for them all. All twenty-three.

And I'll fight for future generations too.

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**Wherever You Will Go by The Calling.**

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**The blog for this story is - _glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Garnet Stone, District One.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.**

**Again, I'm sorry.**

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**If you could, a review would make my day, especially if you answer these questions?:**

_-Who you thought would win Glasshouse?_

_-Favourite character (besides your own)?_

_-Are you happy with who won?_

_-The most shocking death of the entire story._

_-The most jaw dropping moment of the story._

_-Your favourite chapter?_

_-Your favourite line from a character?_

_-Thoughts on the obituary on some characters/your character?_

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**I would like to thank all of you who submitted, read and reviewed. You made this story one of my favourites, despite my hesitation around the middle when I thought things were slumping and getting worse. It means everything to me that you took the time for it.**

**And, I would like to thank DramaticGleek, specifically, since Garnet has, so far, been my favourite villain to ever write! No matter what anyone ever says - Garnet was, and is, thee best villain a story could have. He was my slowly-becoming-psychopathic baby who just wanted fame and fortune, ridiculed for being an idiot when all along, he played the game better than anyone else.**

**And a thank you to our little infinity, since your tribute won! Cameron is a baby. I love her so much. And, over the journey, everyone else began to love her and the "domestic alliance".**

**Each kill was so painful to do. These bunch of tributes have been my favourite as a whole, with no characters I even disliked. Usually there's one - none for this.**

**The obituaries are up, now, under _Remember, Remember_, so go check them out. You should hopefully be wonderfully surprised about Cameron's future; the hint is in this song. ;)**


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